


Odysseus Come Home

by Thealien



Series: Cam [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar's Legion, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 90,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealien/pseuds/Thealien
Summary: The tale of Arcade and Cam as they travel the desert, trying to put the pieces of themselves together and maybe make the world a little less awful.Alternately: an amnesiac, an eye-bot, and a doctor wander the Mojave trying to stay ahead of the cosmic punchline.Medium-burn, rated "explicit" for later chapters.Background Manny/BooneContent Warnings: references to past child abuse, implied sexual assault, implied drunken violence, non-explicit torture; all mentions are significantly less explicit than the canon. Occasional violence typical to Fallout (fighting). Specifics on the Author's Note before each chapter.
Relationships: Male Courier/Arcade Gannon
Series: Cam [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804753
Comments: 31
Kudos: 57





	1. Sunshiny Smiles

The man was big as a super mutant and about as smart, but for some reason, Arcade stuck around. He wasn’t sure why, really. It definitely wasn’t the intellectual conversation; he’s not even sure the man knows how to read. He’d only agreed to go with him out a vague sense of not wanting to find out the big lug had died because he’d gotten confused and thrown a mini nuke into his campfire or something.

Arcade glanced up to see Cam frowning at a bare stick. In their fire, a hunk of meat was rapidly blackening to inedible.

Definitely not for anything even resembling intelligence. And yet here he was, nearly a month later, not at the slightly-nicer-than-Spartan Followers camp but holed up in a shallow cave with living proof that humans evolved from animals.

…That was probably a step too far, even for his bad mood. Which, he had no _reason_ for; they’d done good work today. Freeside had power now, thanks to Cam’s brute strength and Arcade’s ‘knowing how a computer worked’.

A few hours removed, he could almost laugh about Cam nearly activating ARCHIMEDES.

Almost.

It was an accident, an honest one given the way Cam physically leapt away from the machine, stammering that he just wanted to turn it off. Arcade’s suggestion that perhaps _he_ should handle computers from now on was well-received. No offence at the implication and, strangely enough, gratitude.

“Here!”

A plate was thrust forward and Arcade looked up to see a big, doofy grin. Three teeth missing on left side—two top, one bottom—but bright, bright eyes completely unburdened by any sort of knowledge whatsoever. The plate was piled high with gecko-meat skewers and grilled mutfruit, a concession to Arcade’s requests for balanced meals.

“Thanks.”

His grin widened and Arcade ignored the slight flutter in his chest at the shining delight. He’d like to think he didn’t leave semi-civilization just because a wet dream asked; he much preferred the story that it was to keep an eye on Cam. He was a good guy, in all vague senses of the word; he’d not complained once at all the random tasks Julie had given him and continued helping wherever they meandered. Freeside was noticeably better after Cam strolled through it and the Mojave could use more real _Samaritans_ like that.

Since this was the first person Arcade had met that honestly fit that bill, it’d been an easy decision to follow him. Learn some things, help some people. Overhear Cam give the weirdest compliments that still, somehow, were effective.

_“You're too tense. It wrinkles your nice face.”_

Ignacio, a colleague he’d met once or twice before, and had found a rather dry yet knowledgeable person, had actually _responded_ to it. A pleased smile, the quip that he used to be fun, and then the fastest up-and-down appreciative look-over that Arcade had ever seen. He was pretty sure if he hadn’t been there, Ignacio would’ve invited Cam to stay the night.

He's not saying that Cam isn’t more than an eyeful, but that was it? Maybe Arcade should’ve stayed listening to that moron. Not to be too much of a stick in the mud, but if the courtship was that quick than he can’t imagine they would’ve taken long for the rest.

Arcade took a bite of his food, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the mountain on his plate. The man had never before heard of portioning, unless he planned on being the villain of some old fairytale, fattening Arcade up for the slaughter. He did have to admit there was one thing that traveling with Cam had over the Mormon Fort: the food. Cam did things with a campfire that the Followers couldn’t get with a proper kitchen and Arcade never finished a meal hungry.

Or finished a meal at all, actually, and tonight won’t be any different. Cam will finish his plate and then Arcade’s leftovers, happy and humming and possibly a bottomless pit. Arcade’s eye lingered a bit, not too much, on his partn- _companion_. He did need the calories, to maintain that body. He’d taken off his shirt—he always did when he was cooking over the fire—and it left him fully on display. Bit grimy, but glowing in the firelight, probably just sweat for the fighting and hiking. He was likely to jump in the next bit of water they passed if Arcade didn’t stop him in time.

That’s why he’s looking, after all. Not to enjoy those practically sculpted muscles, no, or wonder if Cam will turn around so he can study those bizarre scars (whip marks, definitely, but old and deep) on his back. He’s just doing his duty as a doctor and making a mental note to keep an eye out for a good bathing spot, lest Cam wind up trying to soap up with Mirelurks.

Again.


	2. New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Fight scene with mild gore, mention of an off-screen character death, slavery

If Arcade were allowed the privilege of picking, he would not have chosen death by stumbling into a Super Mutant slave trap. Sadly, very little in his life was his choice, so here he was, half in cover behind a ruined concrete wall and Cam nowhere to be seen.

Not because he’d run off, no, but because he was currently the entertainment in a rousing game of ‘kick the Cam’. Arcade could easily pick out where he was, just twenty feet in front of him, where the pair of super mutants gleefully beat him.

“There you are!”

A shout from behind made Arcade practically do a flip. A trio of mutants were running towards them and he swallowed dry sand as he lifted his gun. Cam was… not likely to be alive anymore—or at least not much longer—and he had a good twelve charges left. Excellent. If he gets a perfect headshot on every single mutant here, he’ll still be dead because it takes so much more than a headshot or two to down a super mutant.

But better to go down fighting, he supposed, and stood up to shoot. One two, both pinged off the leader’s armor like nothing and ah, perfect, now the trio was headed for him. He straightened his stance and kept firing. Why had he chosen a pistol? A minigun might not be elegant but certainly would help here.

His fingers felt numb as he scrambled to reload, but he didn’t drop the charges. He managed to down one mutant and that’s something, certainly, one less to mangle his corpse. The leader’s arm was bleeding and that would at least sting a little. Small preliminary revenge counted, after all.

Arcade pulled the trigger for the last time and, in a fit of sudden religion, pulled it again, but not even god can change math. He dropped the pistol and started backing away, like he could outrun the menacing, slow walk. They’d slowed their charge, apparently well aware that he was outgunned entirely. Just let him shoot and shoot and shoot until he stood there, alone and-

What on earth was that screaming ruining his last moments? He didn’t even get a chance to turn his head before _something_ full on tackled the lead super mutant to the ground. Arcade blinked and then blinked again.

Cam—who else was that fucking big—was screaming bloody murder. Nothing intelligible, no, just outright yelling like he’d swallowed a cactus. He was so covered in blood Arcade couldn’t even identify wounds and he was just beating the mutant’s head in with his _fists_.

No weapons, no words—no, two words. Hoarse, like he’d been screaming for a while, and maybe he had, underneath the jeers of the now very dead mutants. But Arcade can hear him now, when the only other sound is flesh becoming meat under unrelenting force. ‘My friend’, again and again, ‘my friend’, bludgeoned into this corpse’s pulpy head.

The sole remaining super mutant was backing up and Arcade pulled his eyes away from the massacre to watch it as it edged farther and farther until it turned and ran. He wet his lips, tried to summon some moisture into his dry mouth. He’d never heard of a super mutant _disengaging_ before.

Cam was still hitting the dead thing—not even a corpse anymore, just broken bone and meat—and Arcade forced himself forward.

“Big guy?” He said, whispered really, and didn’t get a reaction. “Cam?”

The strikes slowed and Arcade stepped closer, hands up, comforting. Cam heaved air into his lungs, his whole body trembling and taut. He didn’t look up though, just down at the—at what was left. 

“Cam, you can stop now.”

Cam lifted his head slowly, face blank until their eyes met. Then, almost immediately, tears, great big blubbering tears streaking down a red swollen face. His mouth moved but no sound came out and Arcade took another step forward. Cam pushed off the mutant jerkily, legs and arms moving like they were disjointed parts to a different body, and then ran at Arcade. Or, sort of ran. More like a structured fall, held together only by sheer will.

He scooped up Arcade and clutched him close and suddenly, he had empathy for teddy bears. He patted the man’s blood-slick shoulder, wincing as his ribs creaked.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Cam was shaking and sobbing and also about to break Arcade’s spine but he grit his teeth and bore it. The man just fist fought a mutant for him, he could handle a hug.

“Friend.”

Just one little word, but broken and bare and Arcade might be a little misty-eyed himself, but it was probably just because Cam was crushing him.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It took the better part of twenty minutes, but Arcade managed to get Cam put him down, eventually. He wouldn’t let Arcade look at his injuries though, just shrugged him off to go loot the remains instead, still sniffling a little, and left Arcade to keep an eye out for stragglers.

The two mutants that had been curb-stomping Cam were dead, a nasty looking blade Arcade had never seen before embedded in one’s throat. Cam had plucked it out like a flower and absently wiped it on his soaked pants before tucking it into his boot in the sort of oiled movement that spoke of timeless practice.

He would ask, if Cam was the sort of person who answered questions. But given his standard reply to “where are we going?” was to point, Arcade suspected it would be a pointless endeavor.

A decent pun, but Arcade liked knowing what weapons were in the room.

Arcade kept one eye on Cam as he loped around the broken building, just to glance in. He was no lockpick, but Cam was good at just breaking things open, and you never knew what you’d find in these ruins. The usual stuff, caches of caps or ammo, were always useful, but they’d happened upon a fully stocked surgical suite last week and a serial killer’s den the week before that.

Today, it’s a cell with a scared family inside. Who could’ve guessed _that_ would be waiting for him just around the corner?

“Oh, thank god.” The woman said, pushing herself to her feet.

An older man, a woman, a teenager, and a little kid. All dirty and pale, they must’ve been kept in here for at least a few days. 

“My husband... have you seen him? He tried picking the lock, but they saw and-” Her voice cut out and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t.” He took a few steps back and Cam looked up, somehow sensing him. “Hey, need your help!”

Cam immediately hopped up and starts over, so Arcade went back inside. The lock was more complicated than a switch, but he’d seen Cam kick down sturdier ones, so he wasn’t worried.

“Is anyone injured?” He asked instead and the woman shook her head. “My name’s Arcade.”

The child squeaked in fear and Arcade winced, seeing his blood-soaked _friend_ in the corner of his eye.

“That’s Cam, he’s… he’s with me, don’t worry about him.”

“It’s okay, Alice.” Muttered the teen, pulling the kid close.

He watched Cam suspiciously though, his body turned in preparation for a strike, and Cam held up his hands.

“Gonna help. Me‘n’Arcade help, not hurt.” He said and then pointed at the door. “Stand back, please.”

The first woman nodded at her little group and they all shuffled to the far wall. Cam rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and… reached into his pocket to pull out a key with a flourish.

“Kidding, found key. Mutant’s had it.”

He grinned and the family laughed uneasily while Arcade sighed. Cam’s sense of humor was… something.

Cam unlocked the door and the captives quickly filed out. He looked down at the kid and the kid looked up and they stared at each other for a minute. Cam reached into his pocket, a frown of thought on his face, and then pulled out a crumpled package.

“Cake?”

He held out the squashed offering and she took it, looking uncertainly at her brother.

“Thanks.” Alice whispered and Cam beamed.

“Where do we go now, Martha?” The old man asked and Cam looked at Arcade, a question obvious in his eyes.

“Hush, dad. We’ll figure something out. Thank you, we’d never have made it out alive without your help.” The woman said, but there was obvious worry around her.

He’d sigh, but it wasn’t a _bad_ idea. He wouldn’t have expected super mutants this far south from Black Mountain and they were obviously in need of help and too proud to ask for it.

“We’re on our way to Goodsprings, a town not too far from here…”

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Turns out, Cam was ridiculously good with children, when he wasn’t coated in blood. The slave camp had a working well, so they settled in for a bit, so the family—the Weathertons—could wash up while Arcade tended to Cam’s injuries (despite the man’s protestations).

But Cam had sat still once Arcade had crossed his arms, which the Weathertons had found hilarious. Arcade, privately, had to agree, especially with Cam’s silent pout the whole time. The family damn near emptied their food supply making up a fantastic late lunch, much to Cam’s immediate glee. Duke, Martha’s father, was a pretty good cook, and the hike was much more pleasant than Arcade would’ve guessed.

Alice rode on Cam’s shoulders, bouncing with every step, and her grin was only outmatched by his own. Allan, the teenager, was practically inside his hip too, talking a mile a minute about… something that Arcade had lost track of long ago. Something about geckos and music? Cam was nodding seriously but that didn’t mean anything at all.

“He’s not all there, is he?” Duke said, suddenly, and Martha immediately elbowed him.

“Dad!”

“What? Didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Arcade snorted and looked up at Cam’s back again.

He turned to flash a grin—how _did_ he always know when someone was looking at him?—and Arcade nodded back.

“He’s got it where it counts.” Arcade decided to say, in lieu of ‘he’s literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met, but how dare you point it out’, and the old man barked a laugh.

“Brains ‘n’ brawn. Good balance.”

“ _Dad!_ ” Martha groaned and shook her head. “I’m sorry about him, he’s never learned to leave well enough alone.”

The not-quite conversation lapsed as they hit a hill, the adults slowing down so Duke could catch his breath, but Cam-and-Allan charged on ahead. Once they neared the top, Goodsprings came into view, lit up like a picture in the cooling air of a Mojave evening. Martha breathed a long sigh, some strain leaving her shoulders as civilization neared. 

“Home!” Cam shouted, apparently just noticing it, and Alice shrieked in startled delight as he leapt forward.

He immediately set off at a run, with Allan struggling to keep up, and Duke snorted.

“Enough body for three men, barely enough brains for half’a’one.” He muttered, with something like awe.

Arcade chose to let it go, since Cam was mildly kidnapping his grandchildren, and just gestured for them to follow. When they reached town, Sunny was already introducing herself to the children and Cam was letting her dog slobber all over him.

“Ah, betting you’re these kids’ mom. I’m Sunny Smiles.”

“I’m Martha, pleased to meet you.” She said and Arcade wrinkled his nose as the dog licked Cam’s face.

“Let’s get you to some rooms, freshen up. Trudy’ll have some dinner ready soon and we’ll sort out what to do next.” She said and Martha looked to Arcade.

“I don’t, we don’t have any-”

“Don’t worry about money. Cam here is a big ol’sweetheart and this isn’t the first time he’s brought new friends home.”

“Sunny will take good care of you, but I need to go rewash all of Cam’s wounds now.” Arcade said, interrupting Martha’s objection, and Cam frowned.

“But I’m all bandaged?”

“Yes, and then you let Cheyenne lick you.” The frown deepened. “Which means your cuts aren’t clean anymore.”

“You’re leaving us?” Alice said and Cam’s eyes widened with panic at the wobble in her voice.

“Arcade?” He said, voice lilting.

“Alice, sweetie, Cam and Arcade need to have some time to themselves.” Martha said and took her hand. “Come on, Miss Smiles says she has a place for us to stay.”

Alice tugged on Cam’s leg and he dropped immediately to squash her in a hug. Then he turned to Allan, who accepted a hug with much less enthusiasm, and then for good measure, hugged Martha too. Duke put his hands up before he could get near, so he just high-fived him.

“See you, Cam.” Sunny said, offering up her fist and Cam bumped it, miming a little explosion.

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Arcade eased himself onto his bed with a groan, feeling all the angry muscles in his back. Cam was sitting on his bed, staring off into space, which wasn’t too unusual, so Arcade just laid down, trying to will himself un-stiff. He shut his eyes and, after a moment, Cam noticed and turned off the light for him.

Arcade took in a long breath and then another, feeling some parts of him finally settling. Loosening. One more near-death experience to add to the pile, really. And he hadn’t even been hurt.

Arcade reopened his eyes. The other bed, opposite his, was silent. No squeaking bedsprings or protesting mattress. Cam must still be sitting up.

“You okay, big guy?”

The sound of shifting fabric and a foot sweeping the ground.

“Yeah.”

More fidgeting. Arcade pushed down a sigh and squinted. It was too dark to see much of anything, let alone without his glasses. But Cam was the worst liar in the world and he just waited a few more seconds.

“…Nope.” A sniffle and Arcade sat up.

“What is it? You need some med-x?”

He had gotten the shit rather thoroughly kicked out of him. Luckily, miraculously, he hadn’t broken anything. Just covered in bruises from his cheeks down to his knees and scrapes and cuts on top of them from where the boots broke skin. And he dislocated all of his fingers on his right hand, but those were an easy fix. Arcade had just assumed that the god that forgot to install his braincells had also forgotten pain receptors since he should be stiff and pained, not skipping about giving piggyback rides.

“Uh uh.” A hard, audible swallow, and Arcade rubbed his eyes.

But he got out of bed and moved towards the sad lug. He didn’t turn on the light, just sat down on Cam’s bed. He had a niggling suspicion about what Cam wanted and he set a hand on his knee, patting. Cam immediately took it, cradling it between his.

Arcade couldn’t see it, but had been around him long enough to know that his hand was dwarfed by Cam’s. Entirely sandwiched, but not crushed, held with all the care in the world. As much as he’d beat in a skull today, Arcade had also seen him pick flowers with all the delicacy of a fairy.

“Bad day.” Cam mumbled, pulling Arcade’s hand to his chest, then his face. “Glad we saved the family. But… Scary.”

It wasn’t a shameful whisper, like Arcade would’ve expected, just an honest reflection of what Cam felt. Then again, Cam wasn’t some macho cool-hearted military propaganda, he just looked like one. He liked playing with kids and building houses and apparently nuzzling Arcade’s hand like a cat. He let his fingers splay out, to sort-of stroke Cam’s cheek, and felt the bed tilt as Cam swayed towards him.

“Coulda got hurt.”

“You _did_ get hurt.”

Arcade felt Cam’s mouth move, but he isn’t sure if it’s a frown or a smile.

“S’fine. Not the worst.” Arcade snorted.

“This isn’t the worst you’ve gotten?”

His hand was lifted up higher, to the exploded-star on Cam’s forehead. He’d not had cause to touch it, just look and wonder what happened. Cam never mentioned anything, but the surgical work was exquisite, rending the scar almost unnoticeable at a glance. Entirely unlike all of Cam’s other scars.

Cam let go of his hand and didn’t object to him running his fingertips along, mapping it in his mind. There’s a distinct middle, a dip where something pierced.

“Gunshot?” He guessed, even though that makes no sense.

Cam turned his head, to catch Arcade’s hand with his cheek, and before he can stop himself, he slid down the sharp cut of his jaw, feel where stubble wasn’t quite properly shaved away.

He pulled back his hand and told himself that he imagined Cam’s sad sigh.

“The checkered man. Doc fixed it… Don’t know stuff now. Didn’t… wasn’t ever smart like you, but I wasn’t…” A heaved sigh. “Doesn’t matter. I got better, n’you’re my friend, n’the mutants didn’t get you, n’m’fine.”

Arcade paused to digest the almost-story and to roll his eyes at Cam’s attempt to convince himself of whatever that gibberish was. A brain injury would explain Cam’s seemingly perpetual confusion and severe lack of anything resembling common sense.

Several jokes he’d made early on in their ‘friendship’ flood back and he winced. Sure, Cam hadn’t understood and was only laughing for Arcade’s benefit, but that kind of made it worse.

“We… are friends?” The worry in Cam’s voice made Arcade snap back to attention.

“Of course.” He bit back the smart comment, forcing himself to be a little more genuine than he’d like, and the bed squeaked.

He felt a sort of ghosting near him, a hesitance.

“Can… I, uh.”

Cam didn’t usually hesitate that much, barring attempts to lie. He normally just said things and everyone else had to deal it. But Arcade shook his head and leaned into where he could sense Cam was. One of the first things Arcade learned about the man was that he was incredibly tactile, held in check only through an admirable desire to ensure consent.

Arcade wrapped his arms around the man, or well, mostly around him, and Cam damn near melted. It was a much nicer hug than the one after the fight and not just because Cam was freshly cleaned. Softer, no crushing panic, and Arcade shut his eyes, letting himself enjoy being entirely enveloped.

The bed creaking was his only warning before Cam flopped over, bringing him down too.

Arcade opened his eyes to see just the vague sense of a broad chest. Cam had him tight against his body, his arms loose and comfortable against his back, and a pleased noise rumbled through him.

It was… far more pleasant than Arcade wanted it to be.

“Alright, you got me. Just don’t be getting any ideas, big guy.” Arcade muttered as he tucked himself a little more thoroughly into his embrace.

“S’your job.”


	3. Puzzle Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Another fight scene with mild gore, references to Legion's violence

The next few days passed without incident. Cam wound up doing a million and one errands for everyone and left Arcade free to talk shop with Doc Mitchell. But now, finally, they were back on the road after Alice extracted several promises for Cam to visit soon.

Arcade hadn’t managed to get the man to say anything else about the gunshot, but Doc had been more forthcoming. Apparently, he had been just short of dead when Doc got him, and admitted it was possible that removing the shrapnel had caused further trauma. He hadn’t been particularly reassured by Arcade pointing out that bringing someone back from a gunshot to the head was impressive, brain damage or no. Arcade supposed that he would be bothered too, in his shoes, constantly wondering if you’re the reason why someone’s got the issues they have.

But Doc hadn’t any idea why Cam was shot, other than what the man himself had learned. Which Arcade hadn’t quite gotten him to spill yet… unless Cam literally did not believe it mattered why someone tried (and damn well near succeeded) to execute him.

Which was a worrying possibility.

Doc had said that Cam didn’t remember anything when he woke up, that most of his questions were met with an increasingly nervous “I don’t know”. And that he’d had to end the first exam early because Cam was convinced that he was mad at him. He’d stuck around in town for a little less than a week, living with Doc, and by the end of it, the only thing he had been firm on was that his name was Cam.

More than a little alarming to learn that the man he’d been travelling with for weeks couldn’t track his memory for much longer than that. But it did explain why Cam insisted on swinging through Goodsprings every time they were nearby, since he’d found something of a father in Doc and family in everyone else. Doc admitted that it was his own tendency to call people ‘son’ that led to the paternal confusion, but he was pretty sure that Cam understood that he wasn’t literally his father. As far as Arcade could tell, they both seemed pretty happy with the arrangement, so it didn’t matter much.

Doc also added that he hoped Cam would eventually come to live in Goodsprings, once he was done settling his scores. Which also seemed to be assumption around town, especially since he already had a house there. Trudy even made a few overtures, implying something about Cam finding a ‘nice young someone’ to ‘settle down with’ and eying him up meaningfully. Sunny just gave him a friendly punch, telling him that if he had questions about Cam, he ought to ask the man himself. She did say that it was thanks to Cam that the town had the militia it did, but didn’t elaborate further.

Which, in all his not-spying, left Arcade with more questions than answers. What was Cam up to in all this? Was there any greater plan involved here? Why the hell did Doc arm an amnesiac? And what ‘scores’ were they settling, exactly?

In all the time they’d traveled together, he’d not picked up a single thread connecting missions. They weren’t chasing this ‘checkered man’ but they weren’t doing much of anything else. They’d help the NCR here, spend a few days clearing out caves over there, and maybe sprinkle in a little ‘wander into death traps’ all about; the only consistent thing was Cam’s compulsion to help.

And absolutely destroy the Legion, but that was probably the only thing Cam was semi-strategic about. He didn’t fling himself into battle the same way he’d do for raiders. He’d stop well before Arcade would notice them, point, and then watch. He’d _wait_.

Arcade couldn’t count the amount of times he’d watched Cam burn his mouth from trying to eat something directly from the fire. Or how often Cam leapt off cliffs because he was too impatient to go around; it was a minor miracle that the man’s joints weren’t just permanently broken.

But something about being near Legion got Cam’s brain working again. Something cold, something _hateful_ , would wake up in that scrambled skull of his. It was unsettling to witness, even if Arcade agreed wholeheartedly with the target. He never went too far, didn’t torture them or anything; he just killed them with a businesslike efficiency contrary to everything else about him.

Which implied that somewhere in his forgotten past, he’d gotten tangled up with the gentlemen across the river, but where? How? His body told a history of violence—whip marks, missing teeth, and many other scars—but no one had seen Cam before he wound up on Doc’s table. Which, he supposed meant he’d have to bite the bullet—perhaps not the phrase to use here—and ask Cam directly.

Once he decided if dealing with Cam’s response will actually be better than the nagging mystery.

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It’s after Cam threw a spear at a fleeing legionnaire, muttering something Arcade didn’t catch but sounded _very_ suspiciously like the Latin word for coward, that he decided any explanation was better than none. Even one of Cam’s infamous nonverbal non-answers.

“While I’m glad you’re so decisive about it, is there any particular reason you hate the Legion?”

Cam didn’t respond, staring off at the hopefully-dead man. The spear stuck out of his back, still shaking with the force of impact. It took until the spear and its new holster stilled for Cam to answer, long enough that Arcade had started to rethink the question.

“Don’t like ‘em.”

He stalked off towards the body, eyes for something many, many miles away. Arcade followed.

“There isn’t much to like about fascists, especially not the power-hungry raving madman kind.”

Cam didn’t respond and seemed rather disinclined to speaking in general. One boot went on the dead man’s back to hold him still while he yanked out the spear with a stomach-turning squelch. He wiped the viscera on the legionnaire’s shirt distastefully and Arcade took the moment to reconsider about his approach.

And to make sure his breakfast stayed put. He would never call himself squeamish, but the hole punched through the legionnaire was… distressing.

Cam didn’t use spears often, but this wasn’t the first time he’d demonstrated his skill with the out-of-place weapon. They’d come across some ‘good trees’ a few days ago and he had been very excited. He’d offered one to Arcade and was thankfully not offended by the not quite polite no.

Another puzzle piece and maybe even a corner one. Throwing spears weren’t too common in the Mojave, but still popular among the tribal people, especially the ones in Zion. Caesar had something of a history with the tribes, if ‘violent genocide and enslavement’ could be summed up in the word.

He looked back to Cam, who was considering the blood pooling under his boot with mild interest. It occurred to him, for a moment, that bothering someone who’d just killed a man fifteen feet away with a stick was perhaps not the wisest course of action.

“Don’t remember why. Just remember _red_.”

It was a quiet mutter, low enough that Arcade almost lost it to the inconvenient yet dramatically appropriate wind. He kicked over the corpse and stared down at the face of the legionnaire.

He was young, too young, and Arcade looked away quickly. Cam didn’t, studying the unmarked face, the start of facial hair.

“ _Ignavi_ get beaten to death. Or fed to dogs. Or… worse.”

Cam didn’t elaborate and Arcade was equally thankful and disturbed. After a few moments, both men lost to their thoughts, Cam straightened up and nodded towards the horizon, back to the road he’d diverted them from in favor of another slaughter. The moment was over, leaving Arcade with more answers and more questions, and he followed in silence.

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Cam was doing some leatherwork and picking at the remains of dinner, while Arcade worked on his notes. Just not the notes Cam would have assumed they were.

He reviewed his lists, glancing up periodically to make sure that the subject was still busy. It was hardly a necessary precaution; Cam lost himself in whatever his task was, entirely. Arcade could probably strip and sing and he would still be carefully marking out his stitches.

When it came to crafting, Cam was a measure four times, cut once sort of guy. Which did mean his work was exemplary, even to Arcade’s untrained eye. He used all different shades of gecko-leather from dark purple to almost glittering golds in his armor, accenting it with some other more ‘normal’ looking browns, and the effect was oddly cohesive. Eccentric, certainly, but Arcade couldn’t argue with the armor’s strength.

Regardless, Cam was busy, and that meant Arcade could relax while he accumulated all his notes. He was, after all, a man of science, and a firm believer that most problems could be solved by thorough research.

Two lists, marking down Cam’s particularities, and dividing them into what he liked and what he didn’t.

The ‘dislike’ list was short, just three items. ‘Legion’, ‘when geckos bite him’, and ‘deep water’ In sharp contrast, the ‘likes” had twenty-two items. Twenty-three, with tonight’s addition—'children’, after Cam had spent nearly an hour chatting with that strange child living in the 188 Trading Post—and no real pattern to be discovered. Cam liked animals, working with his hands, and being friendly.

Hell, even his dislikes didn’t say anything. The only people who liked Legion were dangerous sociopaths and while Cam had a particular sadness for when geckos attacked, no one really enjoyed being bitten by wild animals. The only odd one out was deep water and, well, they lived in the desert. Swimming wasn’t exactly a common skill.

The exercise was pointless. The only ‘pattern’ to be found was that Cam liked just about anything if it didn’t try and attack him first.


	4. Cazadores and Other Venomous Monsters

Arcade bounced into Cam’s outstretched arm; he hadn’t noticed that Cam had stopped. Cam’s head was tilted to the side, frowning, as he scanned the horizon slowly, turning all round.

“What is it?”

He tried not to sound annoyed, but knew he failed. It was hardly his fault though; the sun had been particularly harsh all day, making what should’ve been a normal unpleasant desert march into a hellscape. Now that the sun was setting, it was getting cooler, but also dark and even more treacherous. But instead of continuing on to finding a place to camp and give Arcade the chance to maybe get some of the sand out of his shoes, Cam was twisting around like a radio antenna.

“D’ya hear that?”

Arcade sighed but obligingly faced where Cam was, straining his ears to hear… buzzing. Faint, but growing stronger. There weren’t many things that buzzed in the desert and none of them were good. 

“Cazadores.”

Arcade didn’t question it; Cam wasn’t the brightest, but he’d never been wrong about the desert. Unfortunately, the warning was seconds too late; just as Cam was starting to point a direction, the flying insects appeared.

“Run!”

Luckily, that was something Cam didn’t need telling twice. They both took off like shots, sprinting in the fading light away from the encroaching swarm.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he tried to fight his way uphill, through the trees. Cam had said there was a station up here, NCR, and if they could just get close enough to shout for help...

Something stabbed into his back, sending him flying over his legs. Pain shot through him, burning from his shoulder. He reached back pointlessly, trying to grab the stinger, but he wasn’t flexible enough.

Already his eyes were going hazy, pain and poison blurring the world around him. Each heartbeat pulsed toxin through him and then the world was lurching.

“Got you.”

Cam. He was being carried, probably, or he was being bounced along the ground. Hard to tell with the lopsided shape of the world. Breath not his own shook him and branches snapped against his face and the air buzzed and then he was gone.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“Easy does it, come on back to us now… There you are.”

A pleasant voice, feminine, and a damp cloth wiping his face. Arcade pulled his eyes open to a fuzzy world, but the normal kind. The one where he needed his glasses.

“Where am I?” He tried to say, but instead made a pathetic noise, and the woman clucked her tongue.

“Don’t try to speak, Cam just short of drowned you in antivenom.”

He was guided to sit up, a pillow jammed against his back before he could fall, and then a glass was pushed into his hands.

He drank the water slowly, conscious suddenly of the residual burn in his throat. Antivenom worked best injected, which Cam knew. Drinking it was a last resort. Where was he?

Arcade squinted around the tent, still sipping.

“Oh, right, you probably want your glasses. They were a bit busted up, but our quartermaster got them twisted the right way again.”

He took them gratefully, giving them a cursory examination before putting them on. It was impressive the pair had lasted him this long, with the life he’d been leading.

Now that he could see, he found that he must be in the outpost station Cam had been talking about, at least based on the fact that the woman in front of him was wearing an NCR uniform.

“My name’s Natalie Paulson, I’m the medical officer here at Station Delta.”

“Arcade Gannon.” He said, automatically. “My… friend and I were on our way here, stopping on the way to Camp Hope.”

She nodded before he finished, an emotion flitting across her face that he couldn’t identify.

“Cam. He’s been here before, doing contract-work. A friend, if I’m honest, but apparently not enough for the Major to let me use our supplies.”

Cold shot through him at her words, the slow way she was saying them. The last, vague thing he remembered was Cam carrying him, and she’d said that Cam had attempted first aid, but he wasn’t here.

“Is he-”

The fear must read on his face because she immediately blanches.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, he’s fine! Or, well, he really isn’t, but he’s stable. I just wanted to apologize for having to go through your stuff. It took a good chunk of your kit, but he’ll pull through. If you’ve got the caps, I could probably have him road-ready by tomorrow, actually.”

Relief flooded and he rubbed his face with his hand, letting out a slow breath. The man may be the most confusing person Arcade had ever met, but he was still his _friend_ and he didn’t really know what he would’ve done if he’d died like that.

“We can afford it.” He said, agreeing to a price she hadn’t mentioned, but they were doing pretty well right now.

Cam’s little leather trinkets sold pretty well at the Trading Post, not to mention the rewards for all the random nonsense he agreed to do for people or the salvage they picked up. Arcade remembered Daisy’s lessons well enough to point out expensive scrap and Cam was good at dismantling things.

“For the both of you, it’ll be six hundred caps.” Natalie said, clearly relieved as well, and he nodded before frowning.

“Both of us?”

She gave him an odd look and the pointed down at his leg.

“Did you not notice the compound fracture?”

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Arcade sat next to Cam’s bed, where he still slept. They’d been separated after Cam had, twice, tried to fight the soldiers carrying Arcade, shouting gibberish. Natalie posited that the amount of venom in his system likely had him hallucinating, which explained his bathing Arcade in antivenom. Delirium and shock were a hell of a combination on their own, even without the added toxins, which meant that Cam was currently under enough sedatives to send a deathclaw to beddy-bye land _and_ tied to the cot.

Natalie hadn’t objected to his request to stay here, with Cam, instead of being in the medical tent. While she had reassured him that Cam was stable, part of him had needed to see it. Once freed from the Major’s limitations, she had worked with an admirable efficiency. Arcade’s leg still had a minor wobble, but it supported his weight and he should be back to normal by the next morning.

Cam had taken seven stings, all to the back. They always had a surplus of antivenom, what with his ‘try and touch it’ approach to wild animals, but he had dumped nearly all of it on Arcade. His lab coat was faintly yellow-green now, despite Natalie’s kind attempts to wash it.

But there had been _just_ enough left to keep Cam alive. Arcade suspected that in truth, Natalie had diverted some of her own supply, but he wasn’t planning on telling anyone that.

A few stimpaks, assorted stimulants, and some more antivenom later and Cam had finally woken up. Mostly to mumble “‘Cade?”, smile when the man appeared, and conk out again, but it counted. Natalie brought him some dinner and added that Cam likely wouldn’t have much of an appetite. And that he probably wouldn’t even wake up for another twelve hours, so Arcade should get some sleep.

Unfortunately, Arcade knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he was truly _sure_ Cam was going to be alright. So, he sat in the stiff chair, reading a book, and kept vigil over his friend… after silently removing the restraints the moment Natalie left.

Some patients were dangerous, certainly, and could be a threat not only to themselves but others. But he didn’t like the look of them on Cam, the cold metal handcuffs digging into his wrists and the rope around his ankles… Besides, if Cam only tried to get to Arcade, then there wouldn’t be any harm in him being free. What’s the worst he could do, cuddle Arcade to death?

So he sat and waited, with his book, until the sound of rustling sheets prompted a glance up. Cam’s eyelids fluttered and then opened, bleary and confused.

“You awake for real this time?” He asked and Cam turned towards him, a relieved smile immediately stealing his whole face.

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff, gravelly from having just woken, and Arcade definitely didn’t notice it at all.

He did have the bizarre feeling that he should cover up, at the way Cam was drinking him in, and he shook it off to go back to his book. Or to look like he was, at least.

“We have to spend the night, doctor’s orders. Not mine, this time.”

Cam just hummed. After a few minutes, long enough for Arcade to almost be back into his reading, he spoke.

“What’s that?”

“The Odyssey.”

Arcade had read it several times over now, but it was a classic for a reason. And the familiarity was nice, in a way. Cam shifted, settling back on his pillows, but his eyes still only for Arcade.

“What’s it about?”

Arcade resisted the immediate response—to balk at summing up four hundred pages of poetic mastery in a sentence—to look over Cam. He was cozy, as evidenced by the gentle fistfuls of blanket he was cuddling, and almost looked like a child tucked into bed. The joke was obvious.

“Do you want me to read to you?”

Cam nodded, stifling a yawn, and Arcade suddenly didn’t have the heart for the punchline. He stuck his bookmark at his point in the story and then flipped back to the beginning.

“Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero…”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“There’s my buttercup!” Arcade froze and then turned, in shock, to see Cam turning a fascinating shade of red.

“Hey-a Alex.” He stammered and the NCR doctor grinned. “Brought, uh, brought help.”

“Help’s always welcome. I’m Alex Richards, Chief Medical Officer.”

“Arcade.”

An awkward pause hung in the air as the two doctors studied one another and Cam shifted foot to foot.

“Supplies too.” 

He thrust out the bag and Richards turned to smile at him, setting Cam blushing anew. Arcade forced down the sudden dislike to focus on the cots.

“These the patients you needed help on?” Richards stopped grinning at Cam long enough to fix Arcade with an evaluating look.

“Did the best I could, but if you think you can do better,”

An unspoken challenge was obvious there and Arcade straightened his coat. Cam dug around in his pack and then passed him his kit. Natalie had been more than willing to sell them enough to properly restock and he was doubly glad for it now, for this moment of competition.

“Cam’s a capable nurse, so I’ll assume you’ll want to keep him. I’ll be logging these supplies if you need me, buttercup.”

Arcade doesn’t need to look to know that he winked—he’d met this sort of man before—and Cam was probably purple, but he puts it all out of mind.

For now.

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“So, _you’re_ Arcade. Cam’s told me a fair bit about you.” Richards said, conversationally, and Arcade scrubbed his hands a little harder than strictly necessary.

Wonderful. Not only did Cam neglect to inform him that the NCR doctor that they were visiting—that had needed _help—_ was his lover, the man also went and left Arcade alone with him. 

“Did he?”

“Mm. Not the most eloquent of fellows, but if you get the right conversation topic, he’s practically a poet.” Arcade glanced at him and he cracked a smile. “Alright, more like a dizzy freesider, but the point stands, my little buttercup is _very_ fond of you.”

“Why do you call him that?” Arcade asked.

He doesn’t care what Cam said. He’s a little curious as to _when_ he said it, since this is the first time he’s been to this particular camp and he hadn’t left Cam’s side since they left the Fort. Except for that quick stint in Novac, right after they got together. But it would be quite a journey to do in two days, even for seasoned travelers like Cam and that sniper.

“Having him around is enough to boost morale. Camp practically buzzes for a few days after he visits. Besides, I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face.”

“I take it you and he-”

“Nothing to get riled up about. Neither of us are a’mind for anything more serious than a few nights.” Richards turned to study the tent wall for a moment, a wistful smile on his face. “Took some doing though. Cam understands innuendo about as well as he gets politics.”

Arcade was _not_ riled up. It was a third wheel’s prerogative to be standoffish, especially if it was a surprise. And Richards would be the sort to use crude language as a seduction.

He’s more than a little disappointed that Cam fell for it.

“Metaphor isn’t his favorite.” Richards nodded.

“Thought he was giving me a soft ‘no’ the first time, but he’s just a little gun-shy, if you catch my meaning.

Before Arcade can think of what to say about that—or even what level of offense is appropriate—a clamoring bell rang, off rhythm and insistent, and Richards shook his head.

“Can always tell when cook lets him ring the dinner bell.”

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Richards had been more than right about the camp buzzing. Cam was surrounded by soldiers at the mess table, all laughing and jeering and eager to tell Cam all that they’d been up to. It was kind of heartwarming actually, in a weird way, seeing the big lug grinning at all his friends.

It'd be better if Richards hadn’t gotten the seat next to Cam. Or if, at the very least, Arcade could see where his right hand had gone, since the man had spontaneously switched to eating with his left halfway through dinner.

The food was not good, but apparently it was better than normal, thanks to something Cam did for the cook. It was edible and hot, which was something, at least. Arcade ate quickly. He might’ve been more inspired to listen as everyone recounted tales of violent imperialism if Richards wasn’t obviously using the opportunity to flirt with Cam, but he was and it wasn’t doing wonders for Arcade’s appetite. Just now the man was leaning into Cam’s ear, whispering something that had him going faintly pink.

Arcade was no voyeur and had little interest in supervising a date. Once he was done, he got up and waved a hand at Cam’s concerned look. He ought to get the tent set up before it was too dark and work on getting some warmth in the blankets, since Richards had obviously laid claim to Cam tonight.

Which was not a kind thought—Cam had his own freewill and every right to bed whoever he wanted—but at the same time, he didn’t feel particularly bad about hoping they both got food poisoning.

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Arcade wrapped himself in _both_ blankets and had no guilt about it whatsoever. Mostly because he was a bit too chilly to feel anything other than being grumpy. The desert got cold at night, sure, but this was ridiculous.

He’d heard back in Freeside, from various drunk NCR soldiers, about this camp. That it was worse than a death sentence, that it was understaffed and under-supplied, that it was haunted. And he can’t argue with the last point, if only from how bizarrely cold it was. They’d gotten here only a few hours past noon, it should’ve been hot, but it wasn’t. And now that the sun’s gone, it’s downright frosty.

But other than that, it seemed borderline jovial. He supposed that it was mostly to do with their having rousted the Legion from Nelson, two months ago. Which did align with Cam’s dropping him off at Novac, now that he thought about it. Cam hadn’t mentioned anything about taking part in a military assault, but that would also explain how downright brotherly he was with all these soldiers. Sharing such a victory would do that.

He thought of, unwillingly, the walk up here. Why hadn’t Cam just told him that they were visiting a _friend_? It had been a decidedly pleasant hike; they’d spent the whole time talking about the Odyssey. Cam had lasted almost the entire first book, which was impressive given how much medication was in his system. And then, on the walk, he’d asked all the questions Arcade would’ve expected him to interrupt with; what’s ‘Troy’ and who are all the gods and so on.

Along with some funny ones, like ‘why are their names so hard?’

Arcade had been tempted to offer to read him more, tonight, since he’d clearly (and strangely) enjoyed it. But that certainly wasn’t happening now, even if Arcade was well aware of how petty it was.

Footsteps scratched at the ground outside and he glared at the tent’s ceiling for the interruption. Familiar laughter drifted in and then murmuring voices. 

His scowl deepened. Richards was outside the tent, talking to Cam. Why they’d come here instead of going straight to the man’s bed, he didn’t know. Though now he was concerned that Cam forgot he was here entirely.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you, my dear?”

A sultry tone and Arcade could imagine the way Cam would flush at it, a little shy smile. Richards probably touched him too, maybe held his hand or reached for his cheek.

Arcade should _stop_ imagining it now; it wasn’t like irritation wasn’t going to keep him warm. He should roll over and block his ears and wait until they remember he existed and thus they’d need to find somewhere else to… whatever.

“Sorry. But I…”

Whatever Cam said was either cut off or too quiet and Arcade’s inability to tell was almost as annoying as being an unwilling spectator. There wasn’t a response, or at least not a verbal one; there was the rustling of fabric, the drag of feet against the ground, and then footsteps walking away. The tent flap opened and Cam clambered in.

Suddenly, the guilt he hadn’t felt before swarmed him. Cam was ridiculous and wouldn’t ditch him to go fool around with his lover even though that was a perfectly reasonable thing for him to do. Of course, he’d come back to the tent and set up his bedroll and not mention the fact that Arcade clearly stole his blanket; of course, he’d just curl up and yawn and start to go to sleep.

There’s barely an inch between their bedrolls and, thanks to Cam’s bulk, barely six inches between their bodies. No room for escape.

Normally, he wouldn’t have any inclination for escape. He didn’t like being cold and Cam never objected to physical contact. More often than not, they’d wind up pressed up against one another, Cam’s arm slung over Arcade’s middle.

“Hey, I… didn’t think you’d be sleeping in the tent. Here’s your blanket back.”

Cam took it without anything resembling annoyance, just threw it over himself with a happy little hum.

“S’okay. It gets cold here.”

Cam seemed pretty pleased with the world, probably more so with his blanket. Arcade was… less comfortable. A larger than he’d like part of him was pleased at Richards going to bed sans-Cam, while a decidedly smaller, but more mature portion was trying to smother the feeling. There wasn’t any fight over Cam and even if there was, Arcade turned in the towel well before he’d left the Fort while Richards already had a home run.

Not to mention the fact that there wasn’t _anything_ between he and Cam, literally and metaphorically. Just because they had a mutual attraction—Cam was not subtle in looking him over—didn’t mean he wanted anything more than his friendship. And there was also his head trauma to consider; could the man even properly _consent_? He could be very suggestible, on occasion.

For a moment, he wondered what was with Cam and doctors. Doc Mitchell, Richards, himself… Maybe it was some sort of subconscious self-preservation instinct.

Arcade struggled in his bedroll to get comfortable, to quiet his spiraling thoughts enough to sleep, while Cam was the picture of peace. It annoyed him, suddenly, that Cam was so content.

“You like the NCR?” Arcade asked and could practically hear Cam’s mental wheels turning.

“Some aren’t very nice, but this camp is good people.”

“Like Doctor Richards?”

Arcade couldn’t resist poking and then had to hope that the man wasn’t going to have one of those bouts where he could suddenly read minds. Arcade couldn’t even keep track of his thoughts right now; he didn’t need Cam noticing the unexpectedly jealous beast hiding in his skin. 

“He’s good.” Cam said, unbothered, and Arcade rolled over to look at him.

His eyes were open, facing Arcade, and soft and warm on him. They don’t close off, like how anyone else would, being caught staring. He kept on looking at Arcade with such bizarre gentleness that Arcade immediately glanced away.

“‘Good’?” Arcade pressed. “Good what? Doctor? _Friend_?”

Cam reached out and set a hand on his shoulder and he stopped, eyes flicking back. Cam was always very careful, intentional, when he touched Arcade. Slow, watching to see if it was unwanted. But after sharing a bed back at Goodsprings, he’d grown a little less cautious, especially in their tent.

Arcade had found himself, oddly, not minding the intrusion of his personal space.

“Cold?”

Arcade nodded and Cam scooted forward. He was like a furnace and Arcade hesitated only a moment before he slid off of his bedroll and onto Cam’s.

Cam paused and then moved in reverse, to give Arcade space. Bless him, but all of his brainpower was apparently used in processing out the direction change, because he didn’t even question it. Arcade was gathered up into Cam’s arms, the latter making a pleased noise deep in his chest and the former pretending that he wasn’t practically climbing into the other.

Cam yawned and squeezed Arcade, like a full body hug, and he shut his eyes. It was a little frightening how quickly this was becoming normal, being scooped up and snuggled, but so hard to resist for reasons he did not want to consider at the moment.

“ _You’re_ my friend.” Cam mumbled, so low Arcade wasn’t even sure he said it.

And because this was Cam, he was asleep before Arcade had worked out what to say in response. Get the man horizontal and he was out like a shot bulb until sunrise.

Arcade sighed, ignoring the warm feeling inside him in favor of dealing with the cold feeling outside. He’d rather sleep on his back, the inch or so of cushion not near enough to mask the hard ground below them, but once Cam got a grip, there wasn’t any shaking it. He wriggled though, to face away, and the sleeping bear’s only response was to spoon around him

Damn him, but he could get _used_ to being Cam’s teddy bear, and a traitorous part of his brain whispered that Cam wouldn’t mind that either, given how he was currently nuzzling the top of Arcade’s head.

Cam snored and Arcade shook off the thoughts. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t cold anymore and, well, if Cam liked holding him and he liked being held, then it wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.


	5. This Is Not Research

Cam Likes:

  1. Goodsprings and its people
  2. Geckos
  3. Physical contact
  4. Leatherworking, particularly accessories
  5. Followers of the Apocalypse
  6. Lab coats?
  7. Cooking
  8. ~~Dogs~~ Cheyenne and Rex (tentative towards unknown dogs)
  9. Invisible, purple super mutants (‘Nightkin’?) because they remind him of his grandmother (???)
  10. Primm, particularly the Nash couple
  11. Spicy foods (Ruby Nash’s casserole)
  12. Robots
  13. Brahmin and Bighorner
  14. The Kings
  15. Freeside
  16. Singing / Mr. New Vegas
  17. Beer (no acknowledgement for type)
  18. Nuka-Cola (excluding quantum)
  19. Sunset Sarsaparilla Star-Caps
  20. Spear-making (possibly wood carving?)
  21. Farming/Gardening/Flowers
  22. Sweet things
  23. Children
  24. The Odyssey / Being read to
  25. Camp Hope (possibly the whole of NCR?)
  26. ~~Arcade~~



Arcade crumpled the ball of paper with distaste and then lobbed it into the distance. The wind took it, sending it off like a tiny tumbleweed, and it felt better to have it eaten up by the desert. Cam was too busy fiddling with his Pip-Boy, trying to work out the map, and Arcade dug through his pockets to find the even stupider list, to send it off as well.


	6. Westside Days 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: The Legion Being Awful (mentions of child abuse, drunken violence, slavery, potential sexual assault, and whipping)

Compared to Freeside, Westside was a utopia. A breath of fresh air, to see people working together and being a real community. Arcade was torn between his idealism’s delight and his cynical wondering where the bodies were buried. He remembered passing through here with Anderson a while back, when the man had decided to stay. Arcade had doubted him, and he was proven pretty damn wrong, given how well the town was doing.

Cam seemed to like it here too. As per usual when faced with someone who rightly distrusted outsiders, Cam came in with a broad grin and his usual question: what could he do to help?

While Cam was bounced about from the farmers to the shop keeps, doing everything from helping haul crops to repairing walls, Arcade got to stretch his medical muscles. It had been some time since a doctor came through this town and many of the people needed a check-up. Thankfully, nothing particularly serious; the worst was high blood pressure and they agreed to ease off coffee and other stimulants. Each night, Arcade retired to his and Cam’s shared room strangely content.

Cooperative community meant that they stayed for a significant discount, in exchange for the work they did. Marco had complained about it, but Anderson came through there too. Comfortable bed, reliable access to a bath, and getting to actually make a little bit of a difference for these good people?

Not to mention that Cam had found him _several_ old books. A copy of “Paradise Lost”, an ironically beat up edition of “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, and “Pride and Prejudice”. His explanation of where they came from was as vague as ever, but Arcade hadn’t really expected his reflexive “where did you find these?” to be answered. He’d read them all before, of course, back at the Follower’s true headquarters, but he didn’t have them in his own library.

Not that the shelf back at Goodsprings could really count as a library, but this was a good addition to his other four books. Maybe one day he’d make it to the second row! 

It was safe to say that Arcade was feeling pretty cautiously happy.

He sat on a dilapidated couch, sipping a glass of water and reading, when Cam flopped next to him. He finished his page before looking up to see the man shiny with sweat, dirt smeared on his face, but a pleased radiance shining out of him that had Arcade’s heart skipping a beat.

“Have fun playing farmer?” He asked, pretending like he wasn’t eying Cam like some fair fainting lady in an old bodice ripper.

Logically, a sweaty, dirty body was unappealing. In practice, Arcade would like another glass of water and perhaps a camera.

“S’good work. Hard though.” A heaved breath and then his eyes opened, to smile at Arcade. “New book?”

Arcade glanced down at the not-quite-as-interesting-as-before book on desert agriculture. It wasn’t the sort of thing he would normally seek out, but perhaps the fruitlessness of his former research back at the Fort was due to inexperience with how plants grew. He was, after all, trained as a doctor, not a botanist.

“Trying to see if I missed something, back when I was studying plants and their potential as medicine.”

Cam nodded, shutting his eyes again, and Arcade immediately went back to appreciating the other side-effects of farming. Had he really gotten bigger, in just a few days of hard labor? His biceps definitely seemed to be. Hard to tell without more… direct comparison.

When Cam grumbled about getting a drink and food, Arcade put on a good show of being hard at work, but by the time he returned, he actually was reading again. Anderson had been right, the author was actually rather entertaining, even with the dense material.

Cam was well-used to keeping him company while he read though, and he knew that the man was neither offended nor bothered by it in the least. Though whenever Cam saw him with The Odyssey, he’d wind up with Cam edging slightly too close, giving him hopeful looks until he offered, never near as begrudgingly as he thought it would be.

But Cam had no interest in the chemistry of soil, so after his snack, he pulled out his craft kit and settled in.

Footsteps approaching made both look up from their work to see Jimmy, one of Pretty Sarah’s employees.

“The town’s been working you two harder than the brahmin.” He said, looking Cam up and down.

Arcade got a look over too, but not quite as lingering. Which, honestly, he couldn’t blame him for. He was particularly boring right now, compared to Cam’s dirty Adonis.

“You’re carrying an _awful_ lot of tension in those shoulders, honey. Want some help relaxing?”

This was directed at Cam, complete with a hand outstretched as though Jimmy was going to pull him to his feet. Arcade glanced at him, about to explain that they were fine, thanks, but found Cam staring intently.

And then, he stood up, Jimmy having to quickly pull his hand back as Cam slid into his personal space.

“Oh, you are so much _more_ close up.” Delight rang through his voice as he reached out to Cam’s shoulder, feeling the muscle there.

Cam reached out too, a look of utter concentration on his face, and Arcade clenched his jaw at the unexpected— _shameless_ —display. Was Cam really going to kiss _him_ right here? In front of, of everyone (never mind the fact that Pretty Sarah didn’t care). He couldn’t look away as Jimmy was guided up and then to the side slightly, his neck exposed as best it could be, with the collar.

“Wait, what are you-”

Jimmy noticed too late; Cam held the front of the collar with one hand, preventing his escape, while he felt around the inner ring. Apparently deaf to the man’s protests, he stabbed with his needle and pried off a piece of metal the size of a playing card, dropping it to the ground. Jimmy stared at Arcade who made a helpless gesture back while Cam messed around with the innards of the explosive slave collar.

And then, there was a click. Cam took the two sides of the collar in his hands, gave them a shake, and they separated. Cam pulled the collar off Jimmy and then pressed it into his shaking hands.

“ _Libertas_.” He said, firmly, looking deep into Jimmy’s eyes.

“What the fuck?” Jimmy croaked and Arcade couldn’t agree more.

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Jimmy now sat opposite Cam and Arcade, on an armchair Cam dragged over for him. He rubbed his face, his collar sitting on his lap.

“So, big guy here lost his memory. What did you say your name was again?”

“Cam.”

He was twisting a scrap strip of leather between his fingers, anxious energy needing some outlet, and Arcade looked between them, trying to see who recognized who, except they both said they’d never met before.

The collar was Legion, that much was obvious, and Cam knew not only how to remove it, but how to pop out the explosive charge. Arcade had quickly confiscated it, noticing that Cam’s fingers were getting twitchy and he didn’t want to die because of Cam’s nervous tics.

Jimmy frowned and then stared hard at Cam, making the man duck his head and try to look small. Arcade wondered if he thought he was in trouble.

“Is there any chance that that’s short for Camillus?”

“No.” The answer barked out of Cam, who seemed just as startled by it as the others.

“Right.” Jimmy said, hands immediately up to placate, and then he glanced at Arcade.

“Why do you ask?” Arcade asked, one eye on the suddenly stiff man.

Doc Mitchell hadn’t mentioned anything about it being a nickname; he’d said that “Cam” was the only thing he remembered. No family name either.

Jimmy shifted in his seat, looking briefly at his collar.

“There were stories that the slaves told each other. I always figured they were made up, to keep the younger ones calm. Give us hope.” He touched the textured scar tissue on his neck and then shrugged. “There were a lot of different ones, all about the same man. A legionnaire named Camillus.”

Cam flinched at the name, but didn’t say anything.

“What did he do?” Jimmy flashed his teeth in something that wasn’t a smile.

“What do you think we told each other about? He freed slaves. Each version had a different reason why, but the ‘what’ was always the same. One day, he just up and slaughtered his whole _contubernia_. He freed all the captures and started a one-man war against the Caesar.”

Arcade looked at Cam, for a moment putting aside his worry—Cam was tying the strip into repetitive knots and resolutely ignoring the both of them—to consider the possibility. The scar marks around his neck, jagged and thin; they could very well be from a slave collar. The whip marks on his back; the Legion was known for its corporal punishments.

It would explain Cam’s loathing of Legion, the hatred that always took Arcade by surprise. And if he had been a legionnaire… it would explain his tactics. How he knew how what they’d do.

But Arcade couldn’t see Cam, soft, gentle Cam who gave little girls piggyback rides and loved nothing more than helping, in that brutal army. Anything gentle was beaten—literally—out of them.

“I tried to get this thing off, you know.” Jimmy said, in a soft voice, and Arcade looked back to see him studying the collar. “Some men like it, like playing at legionnaire.” The curl to his lip isn’t exactly kind. “Everyone I asked said it was a Legion secret, the wiring was too tricky. Too many ways to accidentally trigger the bomb.”

Jimmy pushed off the chair and walked forward, squatting down in front of Cam. He placed the collar on top of his hands, covering the knotted ball of leather.

“The story that made the most sense to me, was that Camillus started off as a capture. Taken from his home as a kid, lucky enough to be a good fighter.”

The word ‘lucky’ practically dripped sarcasm.

“Even with the priestesses’ conditioning, he knew what he had to do. And once he got his opportunity-”

“He was a coward.” Cam snapped and Jimmy blinked. “He- I,” The sound that came out of him was borderline inhuman, just a mess of feelings made vocal.

He stood so fast that Jimmy fell backwards getting out of the way and then he was gone, storming out the door.

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Arcade managed to get a little more out of the man, once he made it off of the floor. Camillus was practically a folk hero to the slaves, one that Caesar reinforced by making it law to never even mention his name, which is how they knew he must be real.

As Jimmy said, the stories all had different reasons for Camillus’s defection. In some, Camillus turned against Caesar because he fell in love with a slave and wanted them freed. Others, it was after witnessing the brutal beating of a child. Frequently, it was simply because he suddenly realized it was wrong.

All of the stories agreed though: Camillus had been a legionnaire, a soldier.

His skills… did align with the stories and according to Jimmy, they did specifically mention that he was ‘giant among men’ and a ‘hunk’.

Cam still hadn’t returned from wherever it was he ran off to. Arcade had looked, but either he wasn’t in Westside or the locals were hiding him. Which was possible, given how quickly Cam made friends.

Which was a point in favor of Cam not being Camillus: legionnaires shouldn’t be good with people. They were psychologically conditioned to think dying on the battlefield for Caesar was a great idea. They didn’t spend hours making jewelry just to hand out as gifts!

Arcade paced around their room. It was dark out, now, it was far too late to be skulking around the Mojave. Westside was safe, the militia did a good job, but still. Cam shouldn’t be off hiding, he should be here, figuring this out. With him.

The door rattled and then something skidded across it. Arcade watched as the doorknob jiggled and then there was a lengthy sigh.

“‘Cade?”

Cam’s voice and Arcade bolted to the door, quickly unlocking it. He’d forgotten that there was only one key and Cam told him to keep it, that he’d just lose it. When he opened the door, he found Cam leaning heavily on the doorframe, one hand pressed tight against his side.

“You’re hurt.” Relief went straight back to worry when he nodded, eyes closed.

Arcade helped him in, to the bed, and then grabbed the med kit. Cam was still sitting, just holding his side. As gently as he could, he guided Cam down and then moved his hands.

He’d just been wearing clothes, no armor, and this was a goddamn _bullet wound_. Arcade bit back snark as he worked. It was through-and-through, no shrapnel or anything left behind, just a lovely little hole ripped through Cam’s body because he apparently went and got in a firefight wearing just regular clothes.

“What were you doing?”

He tried not to sound angry and knew he failed. Cam opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

“I killed people.”

Not the answer he expected, but he overcame the startle and kept working, waiting for Cam to elaborate.

He should have known that he would not.

It’s not until he’s finished the other side, Cam face down on the bed and so still that Arcade felt compelled to regularly check his pulse, that he finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry.”

Arcade smoothed the bandage over his back, running his hand over it a few more times than strictly necessary. He’d seen Cam’s body before, often even. Not always in the context of trying to care for him; sometimes just because it was hot and Cam wasn’t shy about being shirtless. He’d never had a reason to look deeper than just the latest wound.

But now, he studied the map etched on Cam’s skin, leaning over to try and divine as much meaning as he can.

He counted at least a dozen separate lashings. Cam stiffened when his fingers brushed them, but before he can apologize, he relaxed. Arcade took it as permission, both hands sliding over Cam’s back to explore.

His hands were better than his eyes at picking the scars apart. He got up to twenty before deciding to stop counting, that maybe he didn’t need to know exactly how much Cam had been whipped. There were the fresh scars, from the cazadore stings. Too soon for them to fade more than a shade or two. He traced his finger along each of the seven, remembering what little of the mad dash he’d been conscious for, before moving on. He worked up to Cam’s shoulders, to the back of his neck, and Cam shivered.

The marks here were much smaller than the angry looking ones on Jimmy. They’d faded enough to nearly blend in with Cam’s skin.

“Roll over.”

The request was made—and obeyed—before he thought better of it. Cam looked up at him, mouth open and breathing affected, and he refocused on the man’s chest. Not nearly as wounded as his back, just little things here and there. Stab wound in his shoulder, from a Powder Ganger who got too close, and some shrapnel on his hip that Arcade doesn’t know the story for. Probably a thrown grenade, one that left him enough time to turn.

Cam wet his lips as Arcade took his hand, squeezing up the wrist to the thicker forearm. There were the kind of jagged defensive wounds here that he associates with bar fights, where he must have shielded his face from someone wielding a broken bottle.

Arcade thought of the teeth missing from his smile; that sort of injury usually came about from blunt trauma to the jaw.

“What happened to you?” He asked, knowing the futility of the question, and Cam swallowed.

“I was scared.”

An answer to a different question, but one he needed to ask as well. Arcade’s eyes fell on the star over Cam’s forehead, the source of so many problems. Cam’s eyes shut when his fingers made contact, feeling again the dips and ridges. This time, intentionally trailing his hand down to cup Cam’s cheek, to wipe away tears.

Cam’s hand covered his, holding him in place as he struggled against emotion. Arcade let him, just shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning into Cam’s side. He waited.

“I… I was. Before. I remembered. Some.” Nothing so simple as a sentence, false starts and quick breaths preventing anything from being too coherent. “I _killed_ people.”

A horrified whisper and then Cam’s eyes opened; Arcade had never seen someone more terrified.

“What did you remember?” He asked and Cam twisted his head away, pressing against his hand.

“You don’t want to know.”

If Arcade wasn’t lying half atop him, he suspected that Cam would be in the fetal position. Even so, he tried to turn away as much as possible, to hide.

“Of course, I do. You’re my friend.” He reached out, needing to comfort the man, and lacking options, he opted to stroke his hair.

It was the wrong move, evidently, as suddenly Cam ripped away, flinging himself to the other side of the bed. True to Arcade’s suspicions, he immediately curled up into a tight ball, hugging his knees to his chest like an overgrown child.

Arcade sighed and climbed onto the bed fully, sitting next to the lump of human.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. That’s your choice.” He shuffled around, making himself comfortable. “But don’t run away again. Whatever happens, we deal with it together, okay?”

Cam rumbled, for lack of a better word, and Arcade risked touching him again to pat his back. This was accepted or at least tolerated.

“I have no idea what you said.”

“I don’t want… youtohateme.” Cam repeated, clearer except for the rushed last bit, and Arcade nodded slowly.

“You’re worried that I’ll hate you, because of something you remembered.”

Cam tucked in tighter, which he took as confirmation. He wanted to refute it immediately; the Cam he knew was not really hate-able.

But he forced himself to take the worry seriously, for a minute at least. What if Cam had been the worst of legionnaires, the kind that walk out of NCR’s propaganda? Lives only to torture and rape and slaughter?

It was hard to juxtapose _that_ with the crumpled sad sack lying in the bed with him let alone with the man he’d spent months traveling with.

“Your past doesn’t define who you are today, Cam.” Arcade said, deciding. “I already told you. You’re my friend and we’ll deal with this _together_.”

Several seconds passed with no response, until slowly, Cam unwound. Cautiously, as though he were approaching a dangerous animal, Cam slid towards Arcade. He tried to look as genuinely supportive as he could and it must’ve worked because once he’s sure of his welcome, Cam curled up into his side, face pressed against Arcade’s shoulder.

Arcade stroked his hair again and this time, it just made the man cry, clutching at him. He wrapped his arms around Cam as best he could, murmuring soothing nonsense. It took a while before he managed to find his voice.

“ _Decanus Camillus_.” He whispered. “I was a prime legionnaire, with a squad. A mission. _Centurion’s_ orders were to capture as many as possible.”

Arcade drew him closer, rubbing his back as he made his confession, while holding in his reaction, as best he could.

“The best _contubernia_ would be rewarded. The worst…” Cam swallowed, voice faltering. “It was a test. We won.”

There was no emotion in his voice now, nothing except pain, and Arcade turned to press his face against his hair. He’s not sure which of them he’s comforting.

“They gave me a re- a _reward_. One of the captures.” Arcade wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this anymore, but Cam kept going. “A girl... I don’t remember her name. She would be my tent servant.”

He took a moment, breathing heavily.

“I was supposed to… to…” Cam shuddered in his arms and Arcade swallowed back nausea. “I didn’t. They found out.”

He was silent, for a long time, and Arcade closed his eyes for a moment, thankful. He would never have thought Cam a rapist, but he also wouldn’t have thought him a legionnaire, even unwillingly.

“The _centurion_ had her whipped, for failing. He would watch us that night, to ensure that we…” He paused, just for a second, and then his voice hardened. “I killed him. Then, the rest of them.”

Cam just clung to Arcade, having finished his story. He couldn’t think of anything to say; there wasn’t a single platitude that would make this better.

“Thank you for thinking outside the box when presented with the options of death or rape?” was not something Arcade really thought would help, right now.

“Are you okay?” He asked and Cam shrugged.

“I killed people. I don’t… I don’t even know how many.” 

“Now you help people. How many have you saved, since you woke up? You didn’t choose your past, but you do choose your present.”

Cam digested his words slowly before sighing. They laid there in silence, Arcade stroking down his back while they both processed through the unwelcome discovery. It was a long time before Cam spoke again.

“I’m sorry I ran away. And got shot.” Arcade snorted, unable to suppress it in time.

“Under the circumstances, I can’t blame you. And in case you’re still worried about it, I don’t hate you. I can’t imagine going through what you’ve been through and being half the man you are.”

Cam craned his neck and Arcade was relieved to see a familiar—if annoying—light in his eyes.

“But you _are_ half the-”

“Oh, shut up.” Arcade said, interrupting the joke, as much as he was glad that Cam was feeling well enough to make it.

He snuggled back in, clearly pleased and Arcade shook his head. What strange moments Cam chose to be witty in.

After a few comfortable moments, Arcade enjoying being the holder for once, a question occurred to him.

“…How _did_ you get shot, exactly?”


	7. Westside Days 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Smoking Cigarettes, reference to Legion's Homophobia & Whipping, mention of sex work

Cam slept fitfully, flinching awake and startling Arcade too, and every time Arcade had to smother the apologies. Once, literally, by smashing Cam’s face into his chest and stroking his hair until he settled. When dawn broke, cruel and uncaring of their opinions, they came to a silent agreement. 

Cam shut the blinds and got straight back in bed, latching right back onto Arcade’s body. Which he allowed, encouraged even. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to hold someone.

Arcade woke slowly, first aware of the fact that he was no longer wrapped around a giant, and then that he was alone entirely. He sat up, frowning at the absence, and found a note under his glasses.

Cam’s handwriting was crude, but legible enough… if he squinted.

_had to go help bob. s ~~orry thanks~~ bye_

There were a lot more scratched out words, but only the apology and ‘thanks’ were readable. Arcade shook his head at it and then looked to the window; judging by how bright it was, even through the curtain, it was probably close to noon. Well past time for him to ‘open’ his ‘clinic’.

Maybe Anderson had some penmanship books he could borrow, while he was at it.

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“So… I had a question for you, doc-tor.”

Jimmy lilted his title funny, an emphasis that had Arcade a little on edge.

It had, luckily enough, been a slow day. He doesn’t think anyone even noticed that he had been several hours late. Just Sweetie, asking if he happened to have any wild carrot seed (he did) and if he accepted her ‘services’ as payment (he did not). He did, however, accept IOUs and was also willing to just give her the birth control, as last he checked, he was not a monster. 

“What can I help you with?” A reflexive answer.

“Was I… interrupting, yesterday? Before the whole Legion-amnesia thing.”

His raised eyebrow doesn’t get him any clarification of whatever Jimmy was getting at.

“You interrupted my reading, if you hadn’t noticed. And I believe Cam had been planning on making a necklace.”

White teeth flashed as the man laughed, fingers drumming on Arcade’s table.

“I meant between you and that miles-high tall drink of water. Much as I wouldn’t mind being in the middle, I have the impression that you aren’t that interested in my talents.”

The implication did not make Arcade flush, even with the indignation swimming through him.

“And you think Cam is?”

There wasn’t any offense in Jimmy’s voice at the correct assessment, so he wasn’t going to explain himself. Jimmy hummed, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’ve been in this line of work long enough to know when someone’s looking at me, and honey, Cam has been _looking_. Just,” He tapped his lips with a finger and then reached out to nearly poke Arcade. “Not when you’re available, for those hungry, wanting eyes.”

Arcade looked back down at the notes on his table, not bothering to hide his distaste for the almost-touch. He had never seen Cam do more than glance at Jimmy, maybe a nod of acknowledgement here and there. Of course, if Jimmy was telling the truth, then he wouldn’t have had the opportunity.

Though, Cam wasn’t really subtle. Would he really be able to have a secret attraction to Jimmy without Arcade noticing? They’d been in Westside for nearly two weeks and he hadn’t mentioned wanting to move on. Arcade hadn’t really—

Did Jimmy just say that Cam’s been looking at him with _hungry_ eyes?

“So, is this stewing silence a yes or a no? Because I’ve got some struttin’ to do ‘round now, with the farm work nearly done for the day.”

Arcade did not clench his jaw, glare, or do anything of the sort. He adjusted the papers on his desk to a better set up, more conducive to the research he was doing currently.

“Cam and I are friends. Nothing more.”

“Perfect. Now, if you change your mind on me, do tell; I like the brooding academic type too. But until then, I’ve got some _work_ to do.”

He did not look up to see the man walk away or acknowledge the blatant offer. He just resettled himself into his book and prepared to copy down notes on the mineral absorption of cacti.

* * *

Arcade almost forgot about the conversation by nightfall. He gave up, for the moment, on agriculture, and switched to a decisive argument against herbal medicine. If Anderson weren’t doing so much good here, Arcade would ask him to go to the Fort. Really, Anderson was the better choice for researching plants; Julie had just had to make do with Arcade.

This barely-longer-than-a-pamphlet tearing apart the concept of plants as medicine had more leads than anything Arcade had come up with. Ironic, since his plans were explicitly the opposite, but the book’s point was that the plants caused inconsistent results, not that they were ineffective. A much better starting point than just throwing things at the wall to see what stuck.

He's on the couch, where he and Cam often sat at the end of the day. They’d unwind for a while and then get some dinner at the co-op. Sometimes they ate there, sometimes they’d take it to their room, but always together.

Today, Cam was running late. Arcade didn’t have a clock, but he usually had a decent sense for that sort of thing, and besides, he was hungry, having skipped the usual lunch-break since he’d gotten to work so late. He was barely reading his book now, mostly just looking between it and the door.

Which opened, but with an unwelcome addition to the expected person. Jimmy was practically hanging on Cam’s arm, even as they went through the doorway, and laughing way too hard.

With a front row seat to the spectacle, Arcade had to give Jimmy the point. There was a noticeable interest in Cam’s eyes, looking at the man. A flick to the wide mouth, lingering a second too long, and a tinge to his face that had nothing to do with sunlight.

“Arcade!”

Cam noticed him several seconds later than he normally would, with the usual broad smile, but Arcade saw the way startled guilt flitted through him.

“I gotta get dinner.” Cam said to Jimmy and then continued before he could say anything. “Bye.”

Jimmy was surprised but recovered quickly to sigh, all put-upon. He set a hand on Cam’s chest, running his fingers against his shirt.

“Big man like you needs his food, I got it. But don’t forget what I said now, honey.”

Cam nodded and Jimmy detached, winking at Arcade as he strutted off. Only the quick way Cam had dismissed him had Arcade’s appetite saved and he walked over, silently thanking the fact that Cam seemed more or less entirely oblivious to flirting.

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Arcade watched Cam for any sign of what Jimmy had mentioned, but found nothing. It’s just the same old Cam it always had been, joking and friendly and occasionally unable to articulate a sentence to save his life. Sure, some of the looks he shot Arcade were a little warmer than the ones he sent elsewhere, but Arcade didn’t think it was conceited to say he was a fairly attractive man. He’d had no complaints from his past lovers, nor any particular issue pulling someone, when the whim took him.

He'd also known since they first met that Cam liked the look of him; while Cam had gotten better at not being so incredibly blatant, the look-over he’d received then was practically audible.

But that was it, just the occasional look every now and again, and the same friendly smile. Arcade liked to think it was a friendl _ier_ smile than the one he gave everyone else, but no ‘hungry, wanting eyes’.

He wasn’t disappointed by the fact, of course. Amused that Jimmy had misread the situation—a purported expert in reading the sexual room—but not disappointed. Their friendship was important to Arcade and he knew it was mutual; sex would certainly be an enjoyable addition, but hardly necessary. Besides, the casual affection, the strange intimacy, would lose its charm if it gained a sexual tint.

He didn’t understand—or expect—how good it was, having regular physical touch. He would’ve assumed having a man glued to your side all night would be suffocating, yet he’d dragged Cam back every time he tried to retreat.

They walked back to the co-op, not hand in hand, but close, in comfortable silence. It was nearly time for one of his favorite scenes in The Odyssey, with the cyclops Polyphemus, and he was looking forward to Cam’s reaction.

It probably would take him a few minutes to get the ‘Nobody is killing me’ joke, but Arcade was sure it would be a hit once it sunk in.

Pretty Sarah stopped Arcade once they made it to the hotel though, but he’d just waved Cam on. She’d just wanted to ask if he knew any treatment for her scarring, her usual bluster quiet for the moment while he explained everything he knew about burns.

Not enough, for damage this extensive, but he knew some things she could try. He also suggested she make the journey to Doctor Usanagi. She’d not seemed convinced, but he hoped she’d at least consider it. If only for the good that some psychiatric help would do her.

Arcade headed up to his and Cam’s room, quickly shaking off his doctor’s hat to recapture the mood he had before, the eagerness to share more of Odysseus’s journey.

Only to see Cam following Jimmy into _his_ room instead, tugged along by joined hands. The door shut strangely loud and then the lock clicked, its meaning clear.

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Arcade did not read The Odyssey. Neither did he reach for any of the books he’s borrowed from Anderson, nor Cam’s little _gifts_ , nor even one of the interesting-looking magazines he’d picked up.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and sat next to the window, to glare out at the sky and regret the decision to not buy any alcohol. He hadn’t wanted to try and orate with a drunken tongue.

Apparently, he needn’t have bothered. Cam would rather Jimmy’s attentions than discuss classical literature and yes, he’s well aware that the entire Wasteland would make that same decision. Arcade was a boring, dull man and sex always trumped academic rigor. He _got_ it.

Now he was chain-smoking because his friend ditched him and he didn’t have anything better to do. Probably was going to wind up with a stomach-ache from all the tobacco and that’d really add a kick to his sour mood.

Something banged and he flicked his cigarette out the window. He lit a new one, resolutely ignoring the sound. He would have thought a hotel that was almost exclusively used for sex would have better soundproofing.

A trio of thuds again and he paused, turning his head. Unless they had a truly unique rhythm, that actually sounded like knocking. At the door. He frowned at it, sucking down nicotine, and waited.

Shuffling sounds, like feet, and then again: knock-knock-knock.

Arcade ground out his cigarette and tossed it too before forcing himself upwards, griping to himself all the while. Perhaps it was time for some medical emergency, though he would’ve thought they’d be a little more urgent about it. Or maybe Anderson wanted his books back.

Instead, it’s Cam, looking… exactly as he had. No dishevelment or particularly ‘sated’ look about him, just wanting to come in.

Arcade stepped back automatically and then glanced into the hallway. No Jimmy, trying for that threesome he’d intimated at. He shut the door and turned around in time to see Cam sniffing the air, a frown of confusion.

“I… was just having a smoke.” He said, like explanation.

“Huh. Didn’t know you did.”

No judgement and then he hummed his way to the bathroom. Arcade watched, feeling like the world had shifted slightly to the left. He’d only been gone for what, ten, fifteen minutes? Was that long enough?

Well, probably, but he didn’t seem… like that had happened. And Cam was _cuddly_ , wouldn’t he want to linger, after?

Was Arcade really thinking about this? He shook his head violently, dispelling the nonsense, and went to get changed. Whatever Cam and Jimmy had been up to, Cam was back, now, and really, what business did he have getting jealous?

Besides the fact that he was a little jealous that Jimmy had even touched Cam, and lot jealous of Richards, and even sometime Sunny, despite that fact that they were so sibling-like he had been surprised to find out they weren’t related. Oh, and of Ignacio, back at Helios One, because Cam had said he had a ‘nice face’, and goddamn maybe Arcade should be the one seeking therapy.

When Cam made it out of the bathroom, Arcade was in bed, but not with the book. Cam doesn’t mention it though, or ask, even though he’d read to him nearly night they’d been in Westside. He just got changed as well, yawned, and clambered into bed with all the grace of a drunk yao guai.

Which, maybe that was the case. Maybe the reason Arcade couldn’t tell whether not Jimmy had succeeded in his plans were because Cam was drunk. Sure, the maybe-twenty minutes they’d been separated wasn’t near enough time unless he was chugging pure ethanol.

“What did Sarah want?” Cam asked, once he was settled in bed, and Arcade managed to avoid flinching.

“Just some advice, for her burns.” He nodded slowly, eyes closing as he yawned again.

“Should go deal that bad guy later. NCR wanted me to.”

Mentioning that you were occasionally contracted for murder was a weird thing to say in bed. Was violence Cam’s go-to pillow talk? That would only be wildly out of character.

“The world would be better with one less monster.” Arcade said and Cam hummed, tucking himself further under the blankets.

Arcade considered his opportunity to return the question, not entirely sure he wanted the answer with how very sleepy Cam was—one point in favor for a recent orgasm—but there _was_ an opening and, after all, _audentis Fortuna iuvat_.

“Have fun with Jimmy?”

Cam had gone still by the time he managed to ask, but the question interrupted his peace: his nose wrinkled and Arcade took no relief from it, definitely.

“He wanted to talk about… before.” His eyes opened, meaning clear, and Arcade wondered if there was a worse way to seduce Cam. “He’s funny, but… _no_.”

The rejection was final, resolute, and prompted no celebration for Arcade. That would be inappropriate.

“No?” He pressed.

Cam grumbled a series of non-words, scrunching up the blankets before _hmmph_ ing, like any of it was intelligible, and Arcade had to fight down his amusement. But the temptation for the joke was too much for him.

“You seem stressed… Honey.”

The baleful glare lost him the fight and his laughing made Cam sulk loudly, even rolling over to face the other way. Arcade calmed down, easing into the bed lighter with the knowledge that Cam hadn’t done what he was entirely free to do. Arcade was just… glad he didn’t.

No need to examine that further.

He pat Cam’s shoulder and got a grumpy noise. It took a bit, but eventually Cam found the humor in it too, flopping onto his back with a little huff. The air was easy, just the two of them lying in bed together. Not quite touching, but not apart either; Cam’s outstretched hand brushed against Arcade’s side.

“Glad you didn’t go to sleep early.” Cam said, eyes closed again, and Arcade looked over, a little surprised he was even still awake.

“Even if I had, the knocking would’ve woken me up. I’m not that heavy a sleeper.”

Cam’s eyes opened to give Arcade a look, disbelief obvious, and he pursed his lips. Sleep through a mantis attack _one_ time... It’s not like they make a lot of noise!

It figured that Cam would remember _that_ incident.

“Maybe you should have the key then, since you keep being out when you shouldn’t.”

Arcade regret it the moment it left his mouth, but Cam wasn’t bothered. He just shrugged, eyes shutting anew.

“I come back.”

He closed his mouth at that, the sentence odd but also… touching, in a way. Cam did come back, even when he didn’t have to.

Like tonight. Though he was right to, what with Jimmy so thoroughly bungling that shot. He was doing better with the pet names.

Cam rolled over onto his side, eyeing the space between them. He always did that, before starting to bridge the gap, unless Arcade made a clear offering. Or just pulled him over, when they were getting ready to read. Arcade didn’t like his flow being interrupted, or at least that was what he planned to say if Cam ever questioned it.

“‘Sides, Jimmy’s no good at a sleepover.”

The offhand comment stiffened Arcade’s spine, but he hid it well. He folded his hands over his stomach, the picture of nonchalance.

“I didn’t know that it was a skill.”

The great migration began and Arcade made sure he had a decent grip on the blankets. Sometimes Cam accidentally yanked them on his ‘stealthy’ journey across the bed.

“He was acting funny. I think he got something in his eye, too. I told him that you should look at it but he said no, but then asked me to?”

Arcade bit the inside of his cheek. Cam struggled with metaphorical language but he _really_ wasn’t going to pick up on flirting via body language.

Cam made it to the halfway point of his destination, the resting spot where he’d wait to see if Arcade noticed and/or objected.

“Was there anything?”

“Nope. I looked real close too.”

He bet he did. Jimmy probably got as close as possible, trying to snag a kiss off this clueless wonder. Cam must’ve moved back fast enough to avoid it.

Arcade debated for a moment: if he acted now, he could set himself up with his choice of being held or holding Cam. If he waited, Cam would ever-so-slowly snuggle around him, defaulting to Arcade as a teddy bear, but opening up his arms would invite Cam to nuzzle in, instead. He’d yet to be the big spoon in this arrangement, as Cam seemed intent on facing him.

But he should probably get an explanation into Cam, first. Jimmy would likely try again and, well, he’d told Cam at the beginning of their relationship that he’d help him understand the ‘tricky things’.

“What do you think Jimmy wanted?”

Cam paused, his hand stopping to rest on Arcade’s elbow. Arcade had caught him at the right moment, before he slid in, all inevitable.

“…A sleepover?”

Arcade hummed, quickly wording and re-wording what he needed to say. If Cam truly didn’t know what Jimmy was intending, then he definitely needed to break the illusion, for both their sakes.

“You are aware of what Jimmy does as a profession, yes?”

“…No.” A quiet admission, his hand retreating.

Arcade took a moment to thank the universe that Cam had come back. While Arcade had his own feelings on the matter, it was rather important that Cam be _informed_ about these sorts of things.

“Just to make sure I know how much to explain, you do know what _sex_ is, correct?”

It was a joke, but if he said no here, Arcade was going to need to make a quick visit to a certain NCR doctor.

“Yeah.”

He breathed a sigh of relief at the embarrassed, but sure answer. Cam was slow on some matters, but Arcade was fairly certain that the man was familiar enough with his own bodily urges and the appropriate ways to relieve them with others.

Good to know that that assessment was correct and that he didn’t need to beat ‘do no harm’ into Richard’s skull.

Or his own, with the way he sometimes caught himself looking at Cam. But _he_ had the good sense to keep things appropriate, if more physically intimate than anything he’d experienced before.

“Jimmy, along with Sweetie and Maude, are all sex workers, sometimes known as prostitutes. People pay to have sex with them.”

“That’s a… thing?” Cam asked, shocked.

“Sex is the second most common thing to buy in New Vegas. The first being chems and actually, I might have that backwards.”

Arcade looked out of the corner of the eye to see Cam staring at him, mouth agape.

“What did you think the dancers at the Wrangler were doing?” He asked, losing a little of his professional cool, and Cam frowned.

“Dancing?”

The innocence of amnesia, Arcade supposed, not bothering to suppress the chuckle. Or maybe it was just a general obliviousness; he wondered how Richards had managed to seduce Cam.

Probably just asked him point-blank, once he realized that flirting went nowhere.

“So… what did Jimmy mean when he said he wanted me to stay?” Cam asked, slowly.

Arcade gave him a look. It took a few minutes and then Cam was blushing, looking away.

“Oh.”

Arcade gave him some time to recover, feeling his amusement mingle with a little concern at his naivety.

“Regretting your choice to come back?”

He regretted the question the moment he said it.

“No.”

The answer was faster than Arcade expected, before he could even think of a possible take-back. 

“Why not? He was interested enough to come and ask me if you were seeing someone.”

Not _exactly_ the truth, but he was curious and also not quite certain he wanted Cam to know that people assumed they were together.

For no reason.

Cam frowned up at the ceiling for a bit and then looked at Arcade seriously. It wasn’t often that that particular expression took his face, so Arcade prepared himself.

“He’s nice, but… He doesn’t like _me_.” His eyes go distant, hard, for a second. “He wants the one from the story.”

Arcade blinked. That was an assessment he would’ve assumed beyond Cam’s abilities, which was a thought that immediately shamed him. Cam was perceptive, more than people—Arcade included—gave him credit for.

“Then I’m glad you came back.” Arcade said and Cam refocused on him. “You deserve more than that.”

That got him a Cam-signature grin, the kind that made ladies swoon, and it almost soothed the still-rancorous part of Arcade fixated on Cam’s ‘he’s nice’ statement about Jimmy. But he was stuck on the wonder if Cam might’ve _stayed_ with the man, had he not been so obvious with his hero-crush? 

“‘Cade?” Arcade blinked, finding Cam giving him a hesitant look, teeth nibbling his lip. “If, uh, someone asks you about me again… tell them no? Cause… _No_.”

“You want me to tell them you aren’t interested or aren’t attached?” Arcade clarified, trying to quiet his suddenly—randomly—speeding up heart.

“Not interested. I uh,” Arcade’s face must be oiled from the way Cam’s eyes can’t seem to stay on him. “Not looking…?”

He’s not looking at much of anything right now, but Arcade nodded anyways. A new thing for him to dwell way too much on: why was Cam, attractive and attentive and _interesting_ , not looking?

Were things with Richards more serious than the man had intimated? Or worse, did they not actually talk out whether or not they were a couple? Did Richards _assume_ that it was a casual encounter but Cam had deeper feelings?

Or maybe not Richards, but someone else? They certainly met a lot of people on their travels. Who had caught Cam’s eye? Who did he interact with? Why did Arcade care this much?

“Thanks.” Cam breathed and then wriggled a little closer to Arcade, still not quite looking at him.

“What are friends for?” Arcade said and got another smile, softer.

And then he got Cam too, finally completing the long journey across the bed, to properly slide against Arcade. Who rolled over, allowing the bigger man to curl against him, and not just because it was a familiar, comfortable embrace.

It was also to stare at the wall, instead of Cam, while chewing on the newest worry. And to put his glasses on the nightstand. He didn’t need to add ‘finding new frames’ to his to-do list.

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The following day was soothingly normal, a balm after the last two days’ emotional excitement. He and Cam got up, shared breakfast, and then separated for their respective work. They rejoined at dinner, Cam eagerly sharing the details of Brahmin rearing (there was a calf born overnight and Cam had been _delighted_ ) and then listening attentively while Arcade described his research. Then they settled in for some more of The Odyssey, Cam finding the fight against Polyphemus exactly as hilarious as Arcade had hoped, until it was time to sleep.

It hadn’t occurred to Arcade how frighteningly domestic it was until Cam was snoring, muffled only by the fact that his face was buried in Arcade’s hair. He’d taken a minute to be a little sad that they were leaving tomorrow, to get back to the road, and the realization of how much he _liked_ it here surprised him.

As did the reasons: it wasn’t just the safety of the community and a nice bed and access to running water. His ‘clinic’ might be just an abandoned shop, there weren’t even any actual medical tools beyond what he had in his own kit, but it was still _his_. People-person or no, he’d come to enjoy being useful like this. And Cam, Cam had a hundred random skills and gifted hands; Arcade was pretty sure everyone in town had employed him for some task or another.

He knew that the man had enjoyed his time here too and that was definitely part of it. Cam had been just as pleased and well-worked each night as he cuddled up to Arcade.

Cam had asked him that night over dinner, after saying that he intended to deal with the Fiends tomorrow, if he wanted to stay. And Arcade had agreed that it was probably time to move on; while they were technically (barely) making money here between both their jobs and the discounted room, Arcade’s medical supplies were pretty low. Cam had too much of the desert in him too, Arcade had caught him looking out over the horizon with a faraway look in his eye.

But something inside him whispered that if he had said yes… Cam might have agreed to stay too. Which was a nearly scary thought, even if his imagination immediately ran with it. Cam could start again with the Mojave Express, to mitigate his need to wander, and work around town whenever he was in. Arcade’s clinic had a dilapidated upper-story, but Cam was familiar with construction. Between them and some of the other farmers, they could turn it into a living space. A kitchen, a real one, for Cam, and a comfortable living room with a couch for reading together…

And while he’s entertaining impossible fantasies, he’d like amnesty for the Remnants, freedom for New Vegas, and a pony. Such a stupid flight of fancy his mind took him on and he shook it off as best he could, without bothering the real Cam behind him. They were leaving tomorrow, back to the grit and grind of the desert, and they did good work out there too.

Besides, it wasn’t like Cam was _not_ going to cuddle him to death just because they weren’t in a bed. They’d slept just like this in their tent many times, nearly every time it was actually safe for them both to be asleep at the same time. If Arcade set their bedrolls together, then Cam would get the idea.

As for the rest… well, desert wanderers didn’t retire. Best not to think about it.

* * *

Dealing with Cook-Cook and his terrifying band of monsters was easier than Arcade would’ve guessed. Cam had both listened to _and remembered_ his advice about not getting in melee range with a man wielding a flamethrower. A minor miracle, as far as he’s concerned.

Pretty Sarah had thanked them for the news that he was dead. Arcade watched when Cam promptly returned the reward to her desk the moment she wasn’t looking, needing a moment to compose herself. Then it was just business, reminding them that she had the best merchandise outside of New Vegas and they better not be using anyone else’s services.

Which made Cam rather red, since he now knew what that meant, and she laughed, not unkindly, as they left.

Cam went to say goodbye to the farmers and collect the last bit of his pay while Arcade returned (however painfully) all the books he’d borrowed from Anderson’s library. If he muttered something about having a better one himself, someday, the other man didn’t mention hearing it.

Arcade looked around the room that was no longer theirs, double-checking each drawer and corner to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything. They’d agreed to meet at the West entrance once they were finished, but they should be on their way before it got much later.

Someone knocked on the door and he crawled out from under the bed, frowning. He jammed the lone sock he’d found in his pocket and headed over. It was Jimmy, picking at his nails.

“Settle down, sweetheart, I just wanted to give you the heads up that Cam and I had a nice chat.”

He examined his fingers, idly, and Arcade didn’t tap his foot impatiently, even though he wanted to.

“And?”

“I thought you’d be interested to know that even though he thinks I look ‘really good’,” He quoted, the corner of his mouth quirking. “He’s got feelings for someone else.”

The words did not affect Arcade even if it made him a weird blend of tense and relieved at the same time.

“Why would I be interested in that?”

Jimmy laughed and he considered shutting the door in his face.

“Oh, come on, you aren’t _serious_ , are you? Boy’s got it _bad_ for you. Just about ran from me when I tried to kiss him, sayin’ you two had some reading to do.” A hand rested his hip and he gestured at himself. “What kind of a man chooses a dusty old book over a real-life fantasy?”

Jimmy was a good salesman, eyes glittering, and Arcade tried not to dislike him for it. At the same time, he didn’t appreciate the dig at how he’d prefer to spend his evenings.

“I already told you, Cam and I are-”

“Too chicken-shit to confess, I hear you, I hear you. But,” His voice softened, something profoundly _human_ peeking through the caricature he wore. “Homosexuality is a death sentence in the Legion. I’ve seen boys whipped just for _looking_ too long at each other.”

Arcade swallowed, the concern on the man’s face as unexpected as the topic change. He remembered the scars lining Cam’s back and his fists tightened at his sides. Jimmy nodded.

“Ain’t gonna say anyone has it worse in that hell than the women, but he’s bound to have his head twisted about liking men.”

He turned away, apparently done, and Arcade stepped forward, stopping him.

“Thank you. For the heads-up.” Not quite adequate, but Jimmy glanced back, appraising him.

“Just paying back a favor.” His eyes flashed and the mask was replaced, the moment over. “Besides, I need you to figure out your dick and jump him. Since the only way I’m getting him in my bed is with a doctor tag-a-long.”

A saucy wink and a wiggle of his hips and then he was gone. Arcade couldn’t find it in him to be irritated, not with the grim thoughts swirling in his head. Caesar’s ban on homosexuality was well-known; he needed his legionnaires to sire as many soldiers as possible. According to NCR reports, he’d gone to the lengths of having _quotas_.

He hadn’t considered that affecting Cam, since he didn’t remember his Legion days, beyond the one where he defected. Of course, he didn’t remember learning to shoot and he did that just fine, so there was no telling what was going on inside his head. Arcade would just have to keep an eye on him, but that wasn’t any different from normal. Looking out for Cam was second nature, at this point.


	8. Explosives and Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: none

Arcade hadn’t considered that the Mojave could had _more_ crazy cults in it, besides the Legion. He would’ve figured one was a sufficient number. The universe had other plans though and thus, the Boomers.

An entire group of ex-Vault engineers all dedicated to worshiping (???) a giant plane that Cam had unearthed (unwatered?) from Lake Mead. Arcade had heard the rumors of a pre-war fighter flying, but had dismissed it as nonsense. Staring the thing in the face, however, brought that daydream—of pre-war bomber planes not being rediscovered for another few years at least—to a sharp end.

But, in an even more unexpected turn of events, Cam had _not_ dragged them into NCR service. He and Pearl had an easy sort of mutual respect and had come to the agreement that while Legion needed bombing off the planet, it’d be a bad idea to entirely entangle themselves with NCR. Which did mean that there was an entire family of literal loose cannons (and a flying bomber) doing whatever they wanted, but it also meant that the NCR wouldn’t be able to use them for their not-so-secret intentions to annex New Vegas.

A clever move, on Cam’s part, and he’d said as much (and gotten a surprised and delighted grin from the man). The Boomer’s murals describing their own plans for destruction were _worrisome_ , but after several conversations with Pearl, he was reasonably sure they were not actually planning on raining fiery death indiscriminately across the Mojave. They just wanted to keep to themselves and their own way of life.

Cam’s help meant that they would do him the favor of fighting beside them against Legion, if and when they tried for the Dam, but other than that, they were content where they were, with only very occasional visits from particular people.

Especially from Cam, given the way he’d been welcomed into the compound, with a pack of children tripping over themselves to launch at him.

Which he’d encouraged, crouching a little to catch the ones who literally flung themselves, and twirled them with ease. All at once, Cam was just a tree full of chattering monkeys and Arcade couldn’t hide his smile. He kept back, letting them all reunite, and made sure no one fell off the human jungle-gym.

“Where’d you go?” “Who’s your friend?” “Did you bring me anything?”

“Do you have cake? “Are you staying?” "Hiii!!!!!!"

Arcade was honestly surprised Cam ever left the Boomers, but then again, he felt the same way whenever they were heading out of Goodsprings. Cam made for an excellent uncle-like figure, drifting in with stories and toys he’d picked up or made and legitimately interested in hearing about everything they had been up to.

But then, sooner than Arcade would’ve thought, they were wandering again. The stint in Westside must’ve used up all his staying power, because he was even antsier than normal; he’d only made it two days at Nellis before Arcade was catching him looking towards the horizon again, foot tapping on the ground. He’d barely said anything, just a little nudge asking how he was doing, when Cam suggested heading out.

And now they’re in Novac. Cam breathed easier on the road, with the limitless sky above him, even if being on this side of the Mojave meant him glaring at the river whenever he caught sight of it. And the fact that it was Legion they’d find hiding out here, not Powder Gangers, which meant Arcade would have to watch Cam regress into Camillus again and again. Still an unsettling transformation, even if now he understood it more, but at least the switch back was a little faster. Just a deep breath, Cam pulling his eyes away from the dead to look at Arcade, staring until the hate receded and a soft sadness returned.

Never regret. Just sad, almost apologetic, and then they’d get back to the walking, until finally, civilization. Which always prompted Cam to be _himself_ , to smile and laugh and not lose himself to horrors he didn’t fully remember. At least until the urge to wander struck him again, but Arcade had hope that he’d relax a little more fully this time. No particular reason for that hope, other than they’d set a brutal pace and he really wanted at least a _few_ nights in a bed.

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“When do you think you’ll be heading back to Freeside?”

Cam was off with Manny, leaving Arcade to visit with Daisy. Which had been nice at first, until she’d faded into knowing smiles and pointed questions.

“I don’t know. Last Julie and I spoke, she was thinking about asking Cam to join up, so I don’t think she’s planning on calling me back to duty any time soon.”

“Right, nothing sort of an order would pull you away from your Cam.”

He sipped his drink, knowing she was chuckling to herself at his expense. He’d already explained, multiple times, that they were not _together_. She just had her own opinions on the matter.

“You’re worse than your father was, twisting on tenterhooks like it wasn’t plain as can be that he’s into you. Boy’s heart ain’t just on his sleeve.”

Arcade didn’t deign this with a response. She’d been poking him about it since they’d finished catching up. His only defense—that Cam had feelings for someone and there was no reason it was him—was wearing thin.

She’d noticed right away that Arcade hadn’t said _he_ wasn’t interested.

“You go collect him up for dinner. I’ll set you both straight.”

She pushed out of her chair and he followed.

“Please do not.”

Pointless to object, but he did anyways. She’d been trying to ‘set them straight’ since they got here yesterday, but Cam was just as cheerfully oblivious as always. Her questions had only bothered Arcade, because Cam was quite eager to detail how good he was, how smart, how kind, and so on until Arcade had to excuse himself before he suffered a coronary.

Thankfully _before_ she’d asked about anything inappropriate, but the glint in her eye suggested that tonight’s dinner was going to be just as ‘fun’.

“Go on, the casserole’s almost done. And remind him to wash up!”

Arcade headed towards the motel, dutiful as always to his dear aunt, and kept an eye out for a giant. He figured that Cam and Manny would be either up in the dinosaur—Cam loved that thing so much—or egging each other on at ridiculous shooting contests.

He found them wrestling in the dirt, instead, in the motel plaza. A friendly fight, given how Ranger Andy was cheering, shouting suggestions and taunts alike. Arcade slowed and then stopped a bit away, leaning against the dinosaur to watch.

They were both shirtless, giving him get a nice eyeful of two very fit men. Tucked into a shadow like this, and with Andy occupied, he let himself enjoy the sight.

Cam was bigger, and stronger, but Manny was wiry and not too shabby on the power side either. He was also more flexible and demonstrated the benefits of maneuverability by slipping out of Cam’s hold like he was oiled.

Which he might be, or maybe the sweat just had them both so slick. They hopped onto their feet to circle one another, studying, and then Cam charged in. Manny tucked under and went for a hold, but Cam just forced his arm off.

“Come on you two, quit dancing!” Andy jeered. “Cam, get ‘im with the takedown.”

He certainly was _trying_ to, but Manny just laughed, breathless, twisting out at the last minute each time like a matador in an old holo-tape. On the fourth try, Cam landed it, crashing them both to the dirt once more. It’s hard to see who does what then, just a blur of muscles and grunts and aggressive it’s-not- _supposed_ -to-be-homoerotic-and-yet tension until it was over. Manny had Cam on hands and knees in a choke hold.

“Gotcha.” Arcade could see the grin from here.

Cam struggled for a minute, bucking like an angry brahmin, but then his shoulders slumped. He tapped Manny’s hand and was released immediately.

“Ah, looks like NCR wins again.” Andy said, shaking his head like he wasn’t smiling. “Put up a good fight though.”

Manny pulled Cam to his feet and straight into a hug, thumping his back twice which Cam copied. They were both breathing hard, red-faced and drenched in sweat, and Arcade figured he ought to stop spying now. He pushed off the wall and headed over.

Cam and Manny were too busy guzzling from their respective canteens to speak, so Arcade looked to Andy.

“Ah, just trying to teach Cam here the Ranger takedown, but we got a bit distracted settling the old score. Again.”

Manny sucked in a breath and then Cam did, a second after. It was like a shadow thing going on between them and Arcade was no longer as enthused about it, now that he wasn’t watching them like a noble during the Greek Olympics.

A horny noble, but from what the records implied, it was still accurate.

“The old score?” He asked and Manny punched Cam in the shoulder, in a bit of friendly violence.

“Cam and me have a competition, except it’s more of a game of ‘what am I gonna beat Cam at today?’”

“I beat you at darts!”

“Once.” He retorted and Cam _hmmped_ , taking another swig of his water.

But there was a light in his eyes that Arcade hadn’t seen before and had to consider whether or not he liked it being pointed at Manny.

“And I referee.” Andy added, with a snort. “So, I never win, especially when I gotta drag these two to bed after they decide to try out the one thing they’re dead even on.”

“Oh, drinking. I may not look it, but no one’s ever drunken me under the table.” Manny clarified at Arcade’s glance.

“Trying to lug this fella drunk off his ass to his bedroom is about as fun as it sounds.” Andy grumbled.

“M’not _that_ bad.” Cam complained and Manny laughed.

“Man, even _I_ think you’re that bad, and I’m not better.”

“You’re both terrible.” Andy informed them, smile still twitching at his mouth while he crossed his arms. “But I better get back to watching the road, before Cliff starts getting worried I ain’t coming back.”

He hobbled off, after Cam grappled him into a hug.

“I thought you and Boone manned the dinosaur.” Arcade asked and Manny nodded, a flicker of something in his eye.

“Yeah, but Andy takes over when one of us is out of town. Boone’s on a run to Camp Hope. I took nights, ‘cause Andy prefers the dayshift.” He stretched, back cracking with the motion. “Alright, I should get some rest, ‘cause my shift starts soon.”

A couple more mock-punches to Cam, a nod to Arcade, and he was off too.

“You should go grab a shower.” Arcade told Cam, who nodded after a glance down at himself. “A quick one. Daisy expects us for dinner.”

Now, technically, but if he brought a dirt-covered, sweaty man into her house, he’d never hear the end of it. Both from the mess and because _she_ would notice the sly way he’s sneaking peeks at Cam, while they walk back to their bedroom.

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One shower later, a newly clothed Cam and Arcade return to another round of ‘embarrass Arcade to death’.

Cam was happy as he ever was, shoveling food in his face and alternating between compliments and curiosity to her cooking, what spices did she use, how did she get it ‘so good’. He’d been in Daisy’s good books before Arcade properly introduced them—from when Cam had come here on his own, before they met—but his enjoyment of her food and his earnest yet still polite attitude had her nodding approval to Arcade not even halfway into their first meal together.

Granted, it was hard to disapprove of Cam, except for maybe his table manners, but it still soothed the little boy in Arcade’s heart that Daisy liked his… friend.

At the time. Now he wished she didn’t, because then she wouldn’t be grinning, sharing stories of his youth that he’d rather not relive and asking questions like ‘didn’t he grow up nice, we were worried he’d stay gangly forever?’.

Cam agreed, thankfully his mouth too full to add anything to that horror story, and after a sidelong glance to Arcade, Daisy changed tack.

“So, tell me about _you_ , Cam. Such a dashing young man, you must be beating the admirers off with a broom.”

Cam frowned around his drink and Arcade breathed a sigh of relief. Unlikely for him to say anything to embarrass Arcade with that opener and, as a bonus, Daisy was about to find out why he rarely used idioms these days, especially around the ‘tricky’ matters, like romance.

“Brooms would be bad for hitting.”

If he could frame Daisy’s face right now, he would put it in a place of honor. The confusion, disbelief, and then the ‘is he serious’ glance to Arcade. She clucked her tongue, probably remembering the times Arcade had mentioned Cam’s foibles.

“Right, right, I didn’t mean that literally, sweetheart.” When Daisy said ‘sweetheart’, she did not mean it in the traditional manner, but Cam just took another bite. “I’m asking if you have someone you’re sweet on, that you care about.”

“Like Arcade?”

He choked, swallowing an entire mouthful of noodles without chewing, and Daisy just watched, victory in her eyes, while he nearly died. Cam leaned over to thump him on the back and he swatted his hand away, taking a long, fortifying drink instead.

“She _means_ in a romantic way, Cam.” Arcade clarified once he could, willing the blood in his face to find somewhere else to be. “Like Jimmy or Richards. Not us.”

Cam flushed, glancing down to his plate to poke the casserole.

“Oh, uh, then no, ma’am.”

‘Ma’am’ and ‘sir’ only came out whenever Cam got really nervous. His eyes flicked to Arcade, an apology obvious, and he shook his head minutely. Daisy tapped her fork against her plate, considering.

“Jimmy and Richards?” She asked, looking at Cam, who was staying perfectly still. “Friends of yours?”

Arcade would’ve thought that watching Cam get the third-degree that he’d been enjoying would be more… funny. Right now, the man seemed to have lost his appetite—which had never happened before—and was just frowning at his noodles like he was disappointed they weren’t helping him.

“Ye-es.” Slow, drawn out, before he swallowed. “Jimmy… lives at Westside. Alex, uh, Richards, is a doctor. Camp Hope.” His head jerked automatically in the vague direction of the camp. “But uh, we aren’t… like that. Not anymore.”

That was news to him and he can’t help joining Daisy in studying Cam, even as he shrunk farther in his seat. But then he forced it aside, he could ask later, and cleared his throat.

“What about _you_ , Daisy? Last we spoke, there was that caravanner trying to court you.”

She’s too shrewd to take the bait, but she also probably sensed the fact that Cam was a few more questions away from curling into a ball, so she sighed and accepted the topic change.

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The moon was high when they left Daisy’s house, to meander down towards their motel room. Cam was staring up at the stars, absently putting one foot in front of the other in roughly the right direction, and Arcade was full and happy.

Even with the ribbing he had to endure whenever he’d brought company, it was still good to see her. Despite their travels, they didn’t make it out to Novac very often, which maybe should change, since Cam had friends here too.

“I take it we won’t be returning to Camp Hope?” Arcade asked and then winced at it.

That was unlikely to get him anything resembling the answer he actually wanted. Cam blinked at him, eyes drawn towards the stars until he shook it off.

“What?”

Even odds he just wasn’t listening, but Arcade took the opportunity to reword the question into something that would be more Cam-friendly.

“I thought you and Richards were together. Romantically.”

More accurately, he was concerned _Cam_ thought they were. Richards had made his own stance on the situation clear.

“Oh… No.” Cam rather pointedly turned away again, to stare at the stars.

Arcade sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t explain more. He thought of, suddenly, Jimmy’s warning, and chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Cam, you know that hating gay people is _just_ a Legion thing, right?” Cam stiffened the mention, but he usually did. “No one else cares about it anymore.”

“…Okay.”

Now they just stood outside the motel, Cam frowning skyward and trying not to look at Arcade, while Arcade considered him. He was still tense, visible even in the little lighting that the motel provided.

“…You don’t know what gay means.” He said, deciding, and Cam sighed.

“No.” A defeat, recognizing that he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“While there is some debate about the correct terminology, for the sake of us getting to bed soon, ‘gay’ just means someone who likes the same gender. Men who love men or women who love women.”

Cam processed this, the shadows moving across his face, and then scuffed his foot on the floor.

“…Are you sure? ‘Cause. Uh.”

Arcade guesstimated where Cam’s shoulder was and got pretty close, giving him a reassuring pat.

“I _promise_. Outside of Legion, the worst thing a gay person gets is a crude joke.”

Cam’s head bonked against his, not hard, just so he could rest their foreheads together. The hard swallow was audible.

A door squealed open and both flinched towards the sound, Cam retreating fast enough to create a small breeze. It was Manny, humming a little song.

“Oh, hey! Just heading in for my shift in the dino.”

Arcade hedged his bets and went for it.

“Quick question, how do you feel about gay people?”

“Uh, well I’m bi, so pretty good?”

Obviously confused, but sure enough, and Arcade turned back to Cam. 

“See? One small victory from the end of the world, homophobia is pretty much dealt with.”

“Ohhh, I get you.” Manny said, walking over. “Yeah Cam, I can tell you for both NCR _and_ the Khans, no one gives a rat’s ass about that sort of thing. Just Legion and cults.”

Arcade waved a hand at that, underlining his point, and Cam let out a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay. That’s… good.”

Manny slid between them to hug Cam tightly, rubbing his back.

“Anyone ever gives you shit, you come straight here and me _and_ Boone’ll pop their heads off, a’ight?”

Arcade nodded with satisfaction as Cam wrapped around Manny. Not a moment to be jealous over, Cam needed reassurance and having as many people—especially friends—to help with it would be best.

“Okay.” Cam whispered and Manny let him go.

“I gotta go do dino patrol now, but you lemme know if you need anything.”

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Getting ready for bed was a quiet affair, which Arcade expected. Cam was deep in thought, eyes almost as distant as when he was thinking about Legion, but he didn’t have that cold tension about him that he normally would, so Arcade was reasonably sure that it wasn’t to do with them.

Cam had already showered before dinner, so Arcade took one now, just giving him a quick once-over to make sure he wasn’t in a ‘hurts himself or others’ kind of mood. But he seemed more pensive than violent, so he decided to risk it.

When he returned, freshly cleaned, Cam was exactly where he left him: sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning at the toy rocket pyramid he’d stacked on the decorative television.

“You alright?” Arcade asked.

Thinking about the same thing for nearly an hour was possibly a record, for Cam. His frown deepened and then he sighed, looking at Arcade.

“Yeah. Just…” He shook his head and like one of those strange pre-war drawing toys, the mood went with it; Arcade briefly imagined seeing thoughts tumble out his ears. “Nothing. I’m okay.”

Cam smiled briefly and pushed off the bed, to actually get changed, uncaring of Arcade’s suspicious look. The lights went off and they got into the bed together. Cam had given up on any pretense after leaving Westside and just slid directly against him; he’d wait until Arcade initiated to actually cuddle, but their arms pressed against one another, legs brushing occasionally.

After a few moments, Cam waiting for the signal, Arcade rolled over to face him instead. Cam mirrored a beat after.

“You don’t keep secrets often.” He said, aiming for gentle, and guilt flashed over Cam’s face.

It was unnecessary to add ‘because you’re terrible at it’. As always, Cam gave up.

“…You… _knew_ about me and Alex.” Cam’s eyes searched him, but he didn’t know what for. “That we, uh,”

“Were intimate?” Arcade supplied.

“Had sex.” Cam clarified.

He should work on expanding Cam’s vocabulary.

“Yes.” Arcade said, after it became clear that Cam was waiting for an answer. “He told me.”

The bedsheets rustled as Cam shifted and, not for the first time, Arcade wished he could read minds so he could just skip the Cam-fumbling portion of the evening.

“Was he not supposed to?” Arcade asked and Cam sighed.

“Didn’t… expect him to. But I guess it wasn’t a secret.”

Arcade considered this. Cam seemed pretty uncomfortable with the fact that Arcade had known about him and Richards.

Was that because Cam didn’t want anyone to know or Arcade specifically? How self-centered was he feeling today?

He’d volunteered the information readily enough at dinner, but that _was_ after Arcade prompted him, with names... Did he out Cam?

“You told Daisy you weren’t involved with anyone.” Arcade said and practically felt Cam’s eyes sweep over him. “Did you break up?”

That would explain things. Not wanting anyone to know about the failed relationship, how they immediately ran to the opposite end of the Mojave…

“Yeah. Last time we were there.” A long whoosh of breath and then Cam answered his next question. “I… couldn’t. Not anymore.”

“ _You_ broke things off?”

He didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but he’d already half-written the story. Richards found out Cam had feelings for him, explained he wasn’t interested. Of course, it was cold of him to try and proposition the man right after, unless Arcade was misunderstanding what he’d overheard from the tent.

“Didn’t feel right.” Cam said, softly. “He’s nice, but…”

Arcade suddenly flashed back to the same talk at Westside, about Jimmy. He’s pretty sure Cam said the same exact thing.

“You have feelings for someone else.”

“Yeah.” Barely audible, more like a breath, and Arcade nodded slowly.

That did rather narrow down suspects. And the list wasn’t all that large to begin with. Cam didn’t always remember people unless they were right in front of him; he’d already forgotten half the citizens of Westside. He’d remember with a little prompting, but Arcade had to assume that Cam would more reliably hold onto the person he was interested in.

Which, including the newest suspect, was a list of four people of appropriate age that had been mentioned by Cam by name on multiple occasions. One of which was a woman, though he was beginning to suspect Cam’s interest lied only with men.

“Manny?” Cam laughed.

“He’s my buddy. Gonna beat him next time.”

That brought it down to three, then. Boone, that scribe at 188, and himself.

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“It ain’t Boone.” Daisy interrupted.

He’d not really said anything yet. Just that he’d narrowed down Cam’s probable interest to three people, started to say Boone’s name, and now she was staring at him like he’d suggested a gecko.

“Have you had that prescription checked recently? Cause the boy I’ve seen these past few days is a half-step from popping the question anytime you look at him.”

Arcade pursed his lips, looking away from her.

“I think we both know that’s an exaggeration.” She snorted and then touched her temple, looking up at the sky.

“Alright Mr. Science, how about you go and test your theory then? Ask him about Boone, see what he says. I’ll bet you a cold beer that he’s just gonna mention soldier-shit or fighting.”

Arcade crossed his arms.

“Cam likes soldiers. Half our caps come from running NCR contracts.”

Great, now he was exaggerating, but she wagged a finger at him.

“Ah, but will he spend a whole meal talking about how great Boone is? Stumbling over words trying to describe how clever? How happy he is to be friends?”

No one could make him blush like Daisy, needling him with reminders of those conversations he’d like to forget.

Cam had been _fervent_ though, asserting that Arcade was the best, that there wasn’t anyone better. Hell, that was practically a quote. Cam had emphasized it with his fork, nearly flicking food everywhere.

“See? You know it. Plain as the two heads on a brahmin, that boy is heels over head for you.”

Arcade didn’t know about that, but her suggestion to research wasn’t a bad one. Of course, just asking about Boone was hardly enough. It was possible he’d discounted someone that he shouldn’t have; perhaps Cam’s sense of ‘appropriate ages’ was different from his or maybe he really was interested in women or Arcade had simply missed something.

Though he was hesitant to actually suggest Veronica. While Cam had been excited to see her again, and they did regularly cross through the 188 Trading Post, and each time he’d spent a good while chatting with her, when she was there, it just didn’t… seem likely. Cam’s relationship with her was very similar to his with Sunny and _that_ had no secret intentions in it.

But regardless, it wasn’t just a question of finding the people Cam _wasn’t_ interested in. He’d need proof positive too. And if Daisy and Jimmy both suspected him, then it wouldn’t be unreasonable to… play with that. Carefully, of course.


	9. A New Tack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Cigarette smoking

Cam didn’t suspect anything on the walk. They were on their way to Goodsprings now, after Arcade had vaguely asked about Doc Mitchell and Cam realized it’d been _so long_ since they’d been home.

An intentional prompt, on Arcade’s part, and not just for his ‘covert’ operations. His clothes were all threadbare, a little past the point that roadside mending would hold together, and he’d like the opportunity to grab some fresh ones. And maybe swap his tinted lab coat for his spare.

Antivenom was harder to get out than blood, apparently, and lime really wasn’t his color.

But Cam didn’t seem any the wiser to Arcade’s shift in their relationship. If he walked closer, then Cam just smiled at him, bonking their shoulders together affably. A hand on the small of Cam’s back to guide him through the crowded Trading Post did get a little shiver, but nothing more.

Which Arcade should have anticipated. Jimmy was hardly a subtle flirt and Cam hadn’t picked up on it at all. Light touches, even lingering ones, were just going to read as friendly to Cam, unless he planned on sticking his hand down the man’s pants.

A funny thought, but a bit more aggressive than he preferred.

Cam stopped abruptly and Arcade nearly walked into him. He turned around, fear flashing in his eyes.

“What if Doc’s mad?”

“…About what?” Cam chewed his lip, looking at his feet.

“He always asks if I remembered anything while I’m exploring.” A small voice and then Cam kicked a rock. “I’m… I can’t _lie_ to Doc.”

You can’t lie to anyone, Arcade thought, and then rolled his shoulders, to adjust his pack. Doc Mitchell did do a full physical on Cam whenever they returned, particularly to re-evaluate how his mind was doing. It was important to check how his brain was faring; neurological trauma was fond of sudden cascades.

Doc had been shocked to learn that Arcade had no idea about the injury. Cam had gotten quite a talking to about being honest with one’s doctors, especially when they’re your teammate too.

“You’re worried he’s going to be mad at you for having been in the Legion?”

Cam nodded, still downcast, and Arcade sighed. It wasn’t an unreasonable fear, there were those that would think poorly of Cam for it. Especially since he’d been a soldier, not a slave.

“Would you ever go _back_ to Legion?”

“No!” Horror in his voice just at the thought.

Arcade continued quickly, before that shifted to anger for suggesting it.

“Then all he’s going to do is offer you a hug, for what you’ve been through. You didn’t _choose_ your past.”

Cam just stood there, shuffling his feet around.

“Are you sure?” Big eyes, shy, and Arcade nodded.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

He usually didn’t and only in part to avoid stepping on Doc Mitchell’s toes. Cam needed time with his ‘father’ and Arcade wouldn’t interrupt that.

Besides, it gave him a good opportunity to enjoy a nice, quiet house for an hour or three.

After a moment’s deliberation, Cam shook his head. He took a deep breath and turned back to the road and Arcade followed along.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Arcade loved being home. It was Cam’s house, really, but half of the shelves were filled with Arcade’s things, the closet had a good number of spare clothes in Arcade’s size, and despite the fact that there was an entirely unused room, they shared a bedroom. Separate beds, sure, but Cam called it theirs often enough—declared that it was time to go home, with a big grin—that he was comfortable saying it was his, too. At least, in his own mind.

The motel at Novac was comfortable enough, and the hotel room in Westside had started to feel very homey near the end of their stay, but there was something about this house that felt a lot more permanent. Stable. Last time they were here, he’d forgotten a magazine on his bed. When he got back, there it was, half open, exactly as he left it.

Cam was off for his meeting with Doc Mitchells, after hiding in Arcade’s shadow for quite a while. But a long hug gave him the courage necessary to go it alone.

Arcade was not concerned in the slightest. He understood Cam’s fear, certainly, Legion was quite the skeleton to find in your closet, but Doc Mitchell was the ideal second person to tell. Patient, non-reactive, and clear as a cloudless sky. He’ll suggest Sunny, next.

He turned a page in his book, resting back against the fallen-down couch. More comfortable than it appeared, but it did feel like a single wrong move would end painfully on the floor. He barely got to the second line of the page when the front door slammed open, Cam thudding in.

“He wasn’t mad!”

A near shout and then Cam was in front of him, eyes bright. Arcade suppressed the sigh in favor of smiling over his book.

“I told you he wouldn’t be.”

Cam’s grin and good humor was infectious, overruling the minor annoyance of being interrupted.

“I’m gl-”

The ability to speak was squashed as Cam leapt onto him. It’s a little like how he’d imagine a yao guai trying to cuddle, all grabbing hands and jabbing elbows, and then there was a shining face far closer to his than he would’ve expected.

Any breath he had managed to take was knocked out of him again at those big brown eyes. Or maybe it was the body pinning him to the couch, not the end he was usually on but decidedly not unpleasant.

For one brief moment, he thought Cam might be about to kiss him.

But then the couch collapsed.

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Chet had two couches in stock, as luck would have it, and Sunny had been quite willing to help Cam carry it.

Arcade picked, as an obvious apology from Cam. Frankly, they needed a new one, and since neither of them were injured, he was putting this down as a win.

It hadn’t really been a decision between the two. One was dingy and gray-or-was-it-brown, the other was clean and a dark blue-black. Chet had been pleased too, since it was the more expensive option, and also added that he’d had the other couch nearly as long as he’d had the shop.

“Probably going to have to pay to have it taken away soon.” He’d muttered, giving the dusty thing a kick.

Arcade opened the doors and kept Cheyenne out of the way while Sunny and Cam did all the hard work. Soon enough, they had a new, less dangerous couch. A nice one, even, with a sturdy frame and plush cushions.

Sunny wiped sweat off her brow, with a quiet ‘whew’, and Cam stretched.

“Alright, that earned me a cold drink.” She said, swiping her hands together, and then smiled. “You boys joining me?”

“Yeah!” Cam said and then paused, looking at Arcade.

He was struck for a second by the thought that Cam wasn’t looking at him to know if he was going to go, but if _they_ were. If Arcade said no, Cam would probably change his mind.

“Sure.”

No need to test the theory. He may not have been doing any heavy lifting, but it was hot today. Besides, Sunny was good company, and pretty much the whole town would be at the bar. It would be a nice opportunity for Cam to catch up. And for Arcade to watch how that went.

“I gotta ask though, how _did_ the old couch break?”

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They left Goodsprings and now, at the end of a hard day’s walk, they were right back in town. They’d made it as far as Primm, to sell everything that Chet wouldn’t buy, and in the span it took Arcade to haggle a decent price for some antivenom, Cam had procured a half dozen kittens.

The man had looked so pleased with his basket of trouble. The child who’d sold them was wise enough to bolt well before Arcade found out about the situation, so even if he had succeeded in talking Cam down, there was no chance of returning them.

Of course, Cam was immediately besotted with each and every one of them, so there wasn’t really a chance there either. Which meant immediately turning back to Goodsprings, because Arcade did draw the line at trying to travel far with a small pack of mewing kittens.

According to Cam, ‘little girl’ had asked him to find her a pet after Sunny had mentioned that the town used to have several cats. Apparently, they were useful for keeping the mantises away.

The woman had meant _adult_ cats, but she sure as hell didn’t object when Cam showed her the basket. She’d cooed, plucking up a little calico, and Cam asked her to help him find homes for the remaining five, once Alice had selected one.

She’d agreed to find homes for four of them, in exchange for the kit she’d promptly perched on her shoulder, and Cam had just beamed. Then they were off, leaving Arcade to meander back home on his own.

He took a slow drag on his cigarette, looking up at the twinkling stars. He didn’t smoke often, or well, not anymore, but he was down to once a week, give or take. The urge hit him rather predictably, after he’d had a particularly stressful day, but sometimes the moment just called for that familiar hit of nicotine.

Arcade leaned against the still-warm wall, letting his eyes shut as he enjoyed his smoke. The drag of feet against ground prompted him to look and find Cam approaching, a little hop to his step as he swung the presumably empty basket. 

“Did Alice like her present?” Arcade asked, once Cam stopped in front of him.

He got a hummed yes and then Cam was tilting his head, studying him. Not unusual and he just tapped the ash off his cigarette, taking another puff.

It might be getting dark, but he could still see well enough to know that Cam’s was looking awfully hard at his mouth.

“Would you like one?”

Arcade smiled inwardly at the practically visible wheels turning in Cam’s mind, before reaching into his pocket to offer the carton.

“Oh. Uh. No, no thanks.”

He flushed, glancing away, and then moseyed over to Arcade, to help hold up the wall. And then immediately he was watching again as Arcade blew the smoke out, rather intentionally pursing his lips.

Moments like this almost made Arcade embarrassed for Cam, with the way everything he thought or felt was so painfully obvious. He had whatever the exact opposite of a poker face was called.

“Seems like you want to try.” Arcade offered again, after another few minutes of his smoking and Cam’s intense fascination. “Though, as a doctor, I should mention that smoking is terrible for you.”

Arcade could probably start reciting classical literature right now and Cam would still be nodding, eyes only on his lips. Doing his best not to smirk, he held out the cigarette and Cam blinked before taking it, realizing rather belatedly what he’d agreed to.

“Just a slow breath, only a little.” He advised as Cam uncertainly took it to his mouth.

Cam’s eyes immediately widened and his shoulders shook as he tried to suppress instinct and failed. Thankfully, he managed to turn away before succumbing to the coughing fit.

Arcade plucked the cigarette out of his fingers, tutting.

“It takes some getting used to.”

Cam recovered slowly, straightening up with a wince and a headshake. Arcade kept smoking the now shared cigarette, idly noting that it was getting short and he ought to tamp it out soon, but not quite ready to be done yet.

“Why?” Arcade looked at him and Cam clarified. “If it’s bad for you.”

He tilted his head back and blew a long plume of smoke out, pretending to not notice Cam shifting closer. If he kept at it, soon he’ll be pushing Arcade along the wall.

Arcade made a mental note: if Cam ‘started’ the flirting (if staring could be called initiation), then he was _very_ responsive. He just needed the right frame of mind, evidentially. 

“Lots of things are bad for you. Regular shootouts aren’t exactly part of a well-balanced diet.” Another drag and another laser-stare. “I like the taste.”

Cam wet his lips, still staring at Arcade’s mouth, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking about.

“Can I…” Cam’s voice went once Arcade looked at him, dirt scratching underfoot as he fidgeted. “Try again?”

Arcade turned to face him and hummed as though in thought. The idea had been immediate, obvious, but he liked making Cam wait. 

“Close your eyes.” He said, finally, and smiled as Cam did just that.

A long pull of smoke and then he dropped the spent thing to the ground, crushing it with his heel. Cam shivered, not quite imperceptible, when Arcade’s hand drew him near, his mouth opening ever so slightly. Arcade blew the warm smoke over his face and he drew a sharp breath in, surprised. The secondhand smoke was milder, just the scent and a hint of tobacco flavor, and Cam managed to breathe it in without coughing.

Arcade doubted that Cam knew how much he was leaning in right now. His eyes stayed shut, every part of him turned towards Arcade like a flower seeking the sun, and it was hardly a choice to grab a fresh cigarette with his offhand.

It's something between sigh and whimper, when Arcade moved back to light it without setting Cam aflame, and then a quickly swallowed gasp when he returned, just as close.

“You want more?” Arcade asked, watching the fluttering of his eyelids.

If his voice was lower, perhaps a touch husky, he would blame the smoke. He doubted Cam noticed right now.

“Please.”

Such a quiet voice, breathy and wanting, and exactly how Arcade liked it. Worth the reward of being even closer, not that there was much farther to go, so that there was just a bare inch or two between them.

He probably could have the man right here, right now, if he wanted, in plain view of anyone deciding to go for a late night stroll. With how trustingly Cam waited, Arcade suspected there wouldn’t be any objections.

Arcade took a drag, considering that possibility—undoing his belt, Cam so willingly on his knees—and then stuck a mental pin in it, for now.

He had to lean away as he shared this breath, trying not to grin as Cam ‘chased’, millimeter by slow millimeter, until the only option was to grab a handful of hair to keep the man back. They were close enough that Arcade could smell the beer on Cam’s breath—an explanation of sorts for how particularly _receptive_ he was right now to Arcade’s whims—and it’s not without reluctance that he let the man go.

The air was cooler, stepped out of Cam’s not quite conscious embrace, and the tobacco a little bitter now, on his own.

“You can open your eyes.” He said, like an afterthought, like he hadn’t noticed how hopefully Cam was staying still, waiting.

It’s gotten darker, darker enough that Arcade can’t quite see Cam’s face, but the disappointed arousal would be obvious in pitch blackness. He was not usually a gambling man, but he’d bet his last ten caps that Cam was back to watching his cigarette bob.

“I’ll be in for bed in a bit. Just going to finish my cigarette.”

Cam was savvy enough to know a dismissal when he hears it and _obedient_ enough to only linger a bit, feet scuffing against the ground as he waffled over the onerous decision of confronting Arcade’s teasing or being good.

His whispered goodnight was more of a question than anything, but after a few beats of silence, he just shuffled away, unaware of Arcade’s smile at his back.

He savored the acrid smoke in his mouth, enjoying the sharp contrast to how sweet it had been a moment ago. It wasn’t smoke that Cam had wanted, that second time. He had been more than tempted, too, and only his rather impressive (if he said so himself) restraint prevented it. With the slightly awkward way Cam had moved, he probably was hoping for something more than a kiss, too.

A flick sent ashes away before he took another puff, leaning back against their house. He wondered if there was any hesitation before Cam slipped into their bathroom. Did he seek out that ‘secret’ stash of magazines in the back of the cabinet? Arcade had found it by accident, looking for soap, and been quite amused by the collection of pre-war pornography. But maybe he didn’t need any extra _stimulation_ , maybe all he’d need was the memory of Arcade’s lips, the tickling smoke on his face.

Arcade hoped so. If he had his way, those pretty boys would be gone. There wasn’t any need to mince words: he was possessive, jealous, and had little interest in being anything other than the _sole_ sexual focus of his lovers.

But Cam wasn’t his, so he’d just flicked through the collection and replaced it, occasionally checking it for updates. From what he could tell, adding new stock was a fairly rare occurrence for Cam. He’d tear out pages for his collection and just toss the rest of the magazine, in a wastefulness that had the Follower in Arcade tutting. But a fascinating demonstration of preference; he discarded lithe boys wrapped in lace as well anyone near as big and muscular as him. Only the in-betweens, the broad-shouldered men with firm, but not hard, bodies made it in.

Arcade had been relieved to see no evidence of a medical fetish; he’d been concerned what with Cam’s fling with Richards. While he was comfortable playing at that sort of thing, he would have been beyond disappointed to find that Cam’s attraction to him only went that far.

But Cam’s little collection had only confirmed the fact that he was _very_ attracted to men and seemed to prefer a more ‘average’ body type. The only clues Arcade had were educated guesses, some confirmed right now. It was obvious the Cam preferred a more submissive role, but Arcade had no idea of anything more specific than that. 

No real way of knowing either, not unless Arcade felt like pushing things many steps further past the line of ‘appropriate’. Which was a fun idea to think of, to walk into the house, throw open the bathroom door, and order Cam to tell him.

Even odds that the shock just keeled the man over, though. But he wasn’t done, not yet. This only proved what Arcade already knew, that Cam was attracted to him. Certainly nice for his ego, but he was hardly going to take the man to bed without knowing more.

Arcade liked to play at sadism, but he wasn’t cruel; if Cam had feelings for him, then it wouldn’t be right to treat this like a casual dalliance. And if it was someone else that had caught Cam’s eye, then it would be doubly wrong to seduce him. 

Not to mention the fact that they were friends first. Attractive as Cam was, Arcade was hardly going to trade something so rare as a true friendship for something as tawdry as a quick romp.

No, no, he would wait. Wait until he was _sure_ it was him Cam wanted… and if it was, how deep did those feelings go. Emotions and sex were a volatile mix, one he’d learned to avoid.


	10. Doctors Are Not Veterinarians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: none

Arcade was not entirely sure how life had come to this. Kneeling in the mud while a molerat tried to lick his face, even though it was half-dead from sepsis. Trying not to gag at its horrible breath or the stench of the wound.

But Cam had asked him, please, could he please, just take a look at this poor thing, please, and now here he was, using precious medical supplies on a not-as-tame-as-he’d-like animal.

“You’re gonna be fine, Snuffles.” Cam assured, patting the thing’s head. “‘Cade’s the best doctor.”

Bold words from someone who was quite close to three, but Arcade wouldn’t pass up the compliment.

‘Snuffles’ stood up slowly, putting her weight down on the injured foot experimentally, and then made a chuffing sound. She danced, almost, bowing up and down, and then bonked her head repeatedly against Arcade, insistent until he scratched her behind the ears.

“She’s all better!” Cam exclaimed.

Arcade gently shoved her off to stand up, wiping at his legs in the hopes of getting some grime off him.

“She’ll need another day or two of the bandage, but she’ll pull through.”

Cam’s brilliant smile did make the whole exercise worth it.


	11. What Not To Do In A Deathclaw Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Violence, vague descriptions of serious wounds and blood

The first thought to go through his head was: they almost made it through.

The second was an expletive not to be repeated in polite company.

There wasn’t time for a third. There was only shooting desperately at the thing—huge and looming and roaring—and then running when he realized it wasn’t going to stop. And then turning around because Cam wasn’t going the right way, the horrible realization at the decision made, and then stupidity being contagious.

Faster than he would’ve thought possible, it was over, and he gasped air into his lungs. The deathclaw sprawled over Cam like a lover, blood steaming the air, and neither moved. It took all of Arcade’s might to drag the beast off him, to untangle them from what desperate hope begged was not a mutually fatal embrace.

Arcade looked over Cam’s unmoving body, struggling for a moment to set aside his emotional response (horror) in favor of the clinical one (detached horror). Cam’s armor was torn, shredded really, but the most damning was the deep gouges on his sides. He touched his face and Cam’s eyelids fluttered. He made a small noise, just a rough grunt on an exhale, and Arcade swallowed. He grit his teeth and did what he did best: compartmentalized.

The cuts were deep and pouring blood. He dug through their packs for his kit and whatever cloth he could find. He piled spare shirts on the far set of wounds, putting Cam’s hands on top of the mound.

“Hold this. Tight, tight as you can.”

Cam’s eyes couldn’t seem to focus, but he nodded, sort of. Hopefully just the weight of his hands would be enough pressure for now.

Arcade cut the armor carefully, trying not to move him too much. He ignored the smaller wounds for now to focus on the more pressing danger: bleeding out. A quick shot of med-x to hopefully dull the worst of the pain and then, with a muttered apology, he poured a generous glug of antiseptic down the wound.

He needed to close it as soon as possible, but there was sand and who-knows-what all in there. Cam keened, low and pained.

“I’ll give you more medicine once we’re in a safe spot, but I can’t carry you.” Arcade murmured as he threaded a needle.

He had to get this right but more importantly, he had to do it fast. They were on the border of deathclaw territory and the sound of fighting could attract more. But he’s not sure the man would survive moving right now… Assuming that he could even stand.

It's a soft noise, just a little whimper, as he starts stitching. The med-x would need another few minutes to kick in properly but Arcade couldn’t give it that time. Cam would have to endure it.

“You still with me? You have to stay awake.”

He spared a glance up to see Cam pale, eyes shut tight. He felt the slow exhale in his fingertips as he rushed.

“Hurts.”

Arcade nodded, unsurprised. He worked in silence, occasionally looking up at him. Tight faced, but not dead yet. As he finished the third cut, Cam started to loosen a little and Arcade eased, fractionally. The painkiller must’ve finally kicked in.

“Once I get these stitched, we have to move.”

Cam nodded, just a tiny movement, and his eyes opened slowly. They were hazy, dulled by pain, but they still managed to focus on him. He leaned over Cam to repeat his work, hyperaware of every noise around them, and more pressingly, the slowly fading light.

There was an outpost not too far from here, where they’d planned on making camp on the way back to New Vegas. It was about a two hour’s journey in good conditions though; could they make with Cam injured like this?

He was quiet, but cognition was returning to his eyes. He almost managed a smile when Arcade glanced up at him, checking, and it was so ridiculously _Cam_ that Arcade had to smile back. The second set of wounds wasn’t as bad as the first and, hopefully quickly enough, he was finished.

“This is going to have to be good enough for now.” Arcade said slowly, inspecting the sutures.

Not the best he’d ever done, but also not the worst. Cam took in a slow breath and started to sit up but he pushed him back down quickly.

“No, no, not yet. Let me get everything packed up first. And let me help you. We need to keep pressure off those stitches.”

Cam didn’t fight him on it, just flopped backwards and shut his eyes. Arcade looked to the sky and frowned, looked to the deathclaw and frowned harder, and finally found himself frowning at Cam. By his estimate, they had just enough light left. If Cam could carry himself, then maybe, just maybe, they could get there before he keeled over.

It only took a few minutes to gather everything except the soiled clothes, which Arcade opted to just leave behind, along with the shredded remains of Cam’s upper armor. Maybe whatever predators the fight had summoned would be distracted by them. He carefully pulled Cam to his feet, trying not to hurt either of them. He hovered, hands ready to try and break the man’s fall, but Cam just wavered in the air, eyes screwed tight as he fought vertigo.

“M’okay. Can walk.” He bit out. “Can’t fight another.”

Against his will, Arcade laughed, and Cam’s lips quirked at the sound, eyes reopening. Tense around the edges, but lucid enough, and they headed off.

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There was nothing so beautiful to Arcade as the sight of lab coats fluttering in the wind as people ran towards them. Except maybe the feeling of having Cam’s weight lifted off his shoulder, the bags taken, and being whisked away.

Arcade watched as his coworkers finagled Cam into a bed under Doctor Alvarez’s supervision. It was more of a blank stare really, as he tried to summon up the strength to clean some of the blood off him or at least take off his shoes. 

His estimate had been a little optimistic; the sun set about two thirds of the way there and left them walking slowly in the dark, with only Cam’s pip-boy to light the way. And Cam hadn’t made it more than halfway before his strength started flagging. The last thirty minutes had been spent leaning heavily on Arcade, apologizing with every other breath.

“I know you probably need rest, but I’m afraid there aren’t any medical doctors stationed here.”

He looked up at Alvarez, startled but too tired to display it properly. He ran a hand through his hair and then pushed off the bed, mentally shaking off the starts of relaxing. He hadn’t dragged the man through the desert to have him dying now.

“I’ll need fresh water, clean rags, and soap. Some bandages would be helpful too.”

The other two Followers ran off at Alvarez’s hand wave and then she looked him over with a critical eye.

“I’ll radio the Fort and let them know you two are here. See if Julie can send someone over to escort you into Freeside.”

Arcade nodded his thanks, already focusing on Cam again. She left the room and he looked over his patient. He touched Cam’s face gently, trying to rouse him, and got nothing more than a soft whimper.

Not the best sign, but a reasonable one. He started stripping Cam down and found himself with a near constant sympathy wince.

His torso was like a mottled landscape painting. Bruises, already purple and swelling darker, climbed up his torso. There was an alarmingly deep one just over his sternum, the skin holding the perfect imprint of the deathclaw’s hand. As lightly as he could, Arcade ran a finger over the swelling, and Cam gasped awake.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We made it to the outpost.” Arcade soothed immediately, trying to catch the wild eyes.

Cam stared at him and then nearly leapt off the bed when someone knocked on the doorjamb. Whoever it was walked in and put some stuff on the ground next to Arcade while he worked on making sure Cam didn’t try and flee.

“Here’s what we can spare. I scrounged up some stimpaks too. Jim’s fetching the water, he should be by in a second. I’ll let you do your work.”

He said his thanks, not looking away from the disoriented patient who was clearly about to try and bolt, and they left. Cam started to sit up and Arcade grabbed his shoulder set him back down. He went, but clearly struggled to focus on Arcade.

“You need to stay still. We’re safe, but you’re very injured and you’re going to make it worse if you keep moving.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times and then he shut his eyes. He breathed, slow but shallow, pain reading loud and clear on his face.

“Do you remember what happened?” Arcade asked, once he seemed settled.

“Deathclaw.”

Gruff, but audible, and Arcade nodded. He looked back at the man’s chest, cataloguing the injuries. Possible sternal fracture, multiple minor cuts that wanted washing, and of course the massive no-longer-gaping cuts on his sides.

He has the rather insane thought that hey, now his chest was starting to match his back.

Heavy footsteps came down the hall and then a teenager came into view, hauling two buckets of water. These were placed at Arcade’s feet, next to the medical kit.

“D’ya think you’ll need more?” He asked, clearly winded, and Arcade shook his head. “Good. Scary as shit doing that run in the dark. Be in the other room if y’need me.”

Then he walked off, leaving them alone. Arcade rolled up his sleeves and dropped down, organizing what he needed from the supplies.

“You… okay? Hurt?” Cam asked slowly, the words clearly a struggle, and Arcade snorted.

“Oh, I’m dandy. _I_ didn’t try and dance with a deathclaw.”

“Good.”

Cam apparently didn’t care about the sarcasm, or maybe he was in too much pain to register it. Either way, Arcade shook his head as he readied a syringe of med-x.

“I need to wash all these wounds and take a look at your sternum. I think you might’ve broken it.”

Cam flinched at the needle, which was ridiculous, but Arcade let it go. It was silent for a while, just the sounds of water sloshing and wet cloth. He squirmed whenever the cold water touched him and was clearly swallowing back pained noises whenever he moved. It was a vicious cycle that could have been funny given the fact that the man seemed to find cold water more upsetting than his wounds. But it only served to irritate Arcade, each new scrape or cut discovered being another damning sign of Cam’s complete lack of self-preservation.

“You have to stop doing this.”

Cam’s eyes opened to look at his, confusion winning out over pain. Arcade spared him the energy needed to speak.

“How many times do you need to almost die before you realize you’re not immortal?”

His lips quirked and Arcade readied himself for what was undoubtedly going to be the stupidest thing he’d ever heard (this week).

“Still haven’t… died. Maybe am.”

His joke was ruined a bit by the need to breath in the middle and Arcade resolutely does not smile or laugh at it.

“As your doctor, I’m officially recommending you _stop testing_.”

Cam laughed, or tried to, and wound up instead exhaling hard through his nose, face screwed up tight. Arcade paused the planned lecture for a moment to find a pair of tweezers; there were embedded leather fibers in these scrapes. Scrubbing them out seemed a bit too cruel, even if it might’ve served a lesson in not going hand-to-hand with a creature literally named “deathclaw”.

“Are you… mad at me?”

Arcade paused to look up. The genuine worry in Cam’s eyes was as plain as the sweat on his brow. He swiped the back of his hand across his face, letting the exhaustion roll over him for a minute.

“No. I’m mad that you keep putting yourself in danger and I’m very mad that you seem to be doing for my sake, but I’m not mad at you.”

Cam frowned.

“That sounds… like you’re mad at me.”

He spoke fast, his shallow breaths not providing quite enough air, and Arcade decided to stop looking at his face for the time being. He wet another cloth and went back to work.

“I’m mad at your choices. Not you.”

Cam didn’t seem to have a reply to that and Arcade was finished with the conversation, for now. He needed to focus. Cam had dozens of smaller wounds and that could prove just as deadly if they were to get infected. Something rubbed against his side and he glanced down to see Cam’s hand there, fingers idly stroking against his shirt. If it kept him calm, he supposed it was harmless enough and just continued carefully cleaning him.

When he finished, he considered the bruise on Cam’s sternum. The stimpaks would accelerate healing, but he had to be careful if it was really a sternal fracture. If it healed badly, it could puncture a lung or worse, his heart.

Better to leave it for a second opinion. Internal injuries weren’t his forte.

“How’s your pain?” Cam started to shrug and then thought better of it.

“Okay.”

Arcade looked over him, trying to broadcast his disbelief as loudly as possible. He stood up and leaned over, noting the slight hitch in Cam’s breath as he did so.

He touched the edge of Cam’s pectoral, where the bruise was only red and starting to swell. Slowly, watching Cam’s face, he trailed towards the sternum. He didn’t press down, just felt along the skin, and before he even came near the bone, Cam bit his tongue.

It was difficult to find the right dose, between Cam’s ridiculously high pain tolerance and bizarre avoidance of drugs, but he was also a very easy read. Arcade didn’t know who Cam was downplaying his pain for, but he wasn’t going to let him tonight; he grabbed another med-x. The pain would be much, much worse tomorrow and he’d need the sleep.

He got a pout for his efforts and then a shiver, but that was more to do with his hand trailing up Cam’s arm.

“You stay put.” Cam’s mouth immediately opened but Arcade just kept talking. “I need to go wash off before someone thinks I’ve been trying out vampirism. I’ll be back with some dinner in a couple of minutes and then you need sleep.”

“But-”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a yawn and then he flushed, looking away.

“I’m not kidding. Stay. Put.”


	12. Kingly Escorts and Literal Heart-Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: More descriptions of medical things, non-sober discussions (Cam gets high on painkillers), sexual jokes

Arcade awoke to a kinder god than the one that set a deathclaw on them. A trio of Kings knocked on the door, ballsy and cheerful, declaring themselves to be here on a mission. After some posturing, it was determined that Julie had shunted the problem to the King, correctly assuming that his fondness for Cam would result in an entourage.

Which meant the trip back to New Vegas was a little rowdier than Arcade would’ve preferred, but the company meant he didn’t have to carry Cam. Other benefits included were safety in numbers, not having to carry Cam’s pack, and that they had Cam laughing almost the whole two hour march.

Arcade had no idea that there were this many bawdy knock-knock jokes in the world or that Cam found them all absolutely hysterical. Not only did the fact that they were terrible not stop him, it seemed that the worse they were, the more Cam laughed.

Two Kings supported Cam, making sure the drugged man didn’t fall, while the third walked backwards. Arcade was the only one keeping an eye on the road, which didn’t surprise him. The Kings didn’t usually venture far outside New Vegas’s walls.

“Who’s there?” Cam asked, breathless, grinning.

“Kenya.”

“Kenya who?”

“Kenya suck this dick?!”

He shouted it, gesturing at the pelvis in question, and Cam nearly collapsed onto Marshall, who rolled his eyes.

“Hey comedian, if you’re gonna make him stumble, then you take a turn.” 

“I’m just keeping the Prince entertained! He likes my jokes, don’tcha?”

Cam did seem to be having a grand time, though Arcade had to wonder if any of them actually know what Kenya was. And if that shot of med-x this morning had actually been a good idea, given that Cam was literally tripping over his feet. But the jokes did help the time pass and, faster than he would have thought, they were walking into the Fort.

The trio of Kings high fived each other on a job well done and left, after reminding Cam to come and visit to ‘practice’, whatever that meant.

Arcade hovered out of the way of the actual-medical-doctors as they studied Cam. They’d immediately given him another three doses of med-x and he just laid there, eyes blown wide and staring off at nothing while they examined him. He was so still that Arcade wondered if maybe he’d fallen unconscious so fast that his body didn’t remember to shut his eyes.

“Stitches aren’t bad, but this one wants revision. These fou- no, five are all showing signs of infection as well, he’ll need a course of antibiotics.”

The assistants moved in flurry, back and forth from the supply cabinets to the attending. Arcade felt more ignored than usual, but he decided to stay. He could learn from watching, to do a better job next time Cam did something stupid.

But then Julie came in and summoned him away for a debrief, so he resolved himself to having to actually talk to his fellow Followers.

A few hours of reports, paperwork, and updates later, he was allowed back to Cam’s bedside. He was conscious, but not quite lucid, and mostly seemed interested in smiling dreamily at the nearest face.

“Y’look pretty.” Cam said, again, and Arcade patted his hand. “Like a picture.”

His fingers wiggled, but that was about all he could move at the moment.

“You’re higher than the ’38 right now.” He replied, not bothering to hide his amusement, and Cam grinned.

“Yeaaaaaaaah. Feels good.” He made a little shimmy motion, like a pleased worm. “Y’r still pretty.”

“Ah, here you are.” Arcade looked up to see Emily, the head surgeon, walking into the tent. “I should have come here first.”

Arcade quickly moved his hands back to his lap, but Emily didn’t seem to notice or care. She nodded at Cam, who wriggled at her.

“The lady with the shotssss!”

He got distracted with the sibilants, drawing it out until his eyes crossed, and a rare smile quirked her lips.

“Yes, well, it seems I may have overestimated how much was necessary. Gannon, was it?”

“Arcade. We’ve worked together before, Emily.” He corrected and she tilted her head before shrugging.

“My apologies. Now, the sternum was not fractured, but it was a very near thing. We were able to stabilize it and have administered several stimpaks. He should stay still,” She glanced back at the worm-dancing man. “…As much as he can, for the next twenty-four hours. It should be healed enough by then to resume light activities.”

Arcade breathed a sigh of relief at that and Cam managed to lift his hand up before dropping it.

“What about the stitches?”

Emily nodded, sharp, and then adjusted Cam’s blanket to expose his left side. Three angry red lines dug through his torso, the longest nearly eight inches.

“These are significantly worse than the other side, but even so, you did a remarkable job under the circumstances. There is the starts of an infection, but the antibiotics should deal with that shortly. We’ll know by tomorrow morning if he needs something stronger. I added a revision here.” She trailed a finger just above, where a much neater second line of sutures followed his. “It’s the one to worry about, being much deeper and longer. However, so long as he doesn’t put undue pressure on them and keeps the area clean, I do not foresee a problem.”

Arcade looked at Cam, who smiled, and then he shook his head.

“Thank you.”

“This is my job. Though I will say, it is rather unusual to treat deathclaw wounds. In my experience, those encountering them met with a swift end.” She turned to Cam; her serious demeanor not affected by the fact that he was currently sticking his tongue out at her. “I will leave you in the capable hands of my colleague.”

With that, she left, and Arcade rested in his seat, letting his head roll backwards for a minute. Nice to hear she at least considered him capable enough to babysit a chemically restrained patient confused by his own tongue.

But actually, nice to know that he’d done a decent job keeping Cam alive. He hadn’t been entirely joking when he’d said that his covert bandaging skills were rusty.

“Arrrrrrrrrcaaaaade!” Cam sang and he looked up to see the man happy-wiggling again.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Despite himself, he found his lips twitching to a smile.

“Can I touch your hair? It looks soft n’pretty n’I like it!

He managed to suppress the eyeroll, but barely. Cam would be the sort to get handsy under the influence.

“Can you even lift your hand?”

Cam opened his mouth and then frowned, looking down at the body part in question. His brow furrowed in concentration, but he could only manage to raise it a shaky half-inch.

“But… I _wanna_.”

The resulting pout was incredible. Arcade couldn’t help but laugh, much to Cam’s displeasure.

“S’not nice.”

“No, but my hair _is_ pretty nice right now. I got to wash it last night and everything.” He ran a hand through it, teasingly, and Cam looked beyond betrayed.

“But _I_ wanna!”

“I know, and I might even let you, but if you can’t move your own hand…”

Arcade spread his hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

Maybe teasing the person who nearly died wasn’t nice, but it was funny as hell.

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A few hours later and Cam was still high. He’d napped for a bit, letting Arcade have some peace and quiet to read, but then Marcus—one of Emily’s assistants—had come in with food and another series of shots. Now, Cam was relentlessly awake. And _odd_. 

He was staying still and seemed less inclined to bursting into song. Both improvements, for his stitches and Arcade’s headache.

The man had many secret skills. Singing was not one of them.

But he was just smiling at Arcade. All soft, dreamy eyed. There was an aura of sleepiness around him and every so often he’d snuggle against the threadbare blankets like it was the coziest thing ever.

Arcade was doing his best to ignore the unsettling experience of having borderline literal heart-eyes turned on him, but it was difficult. He turned a page in his book despite the fact that he had no idea what was written on it. Seconds passed like ages, but surely the sedatives and lack of stimulus would lull Cam back to sleep.

It was the sigh that broke him. Sweet and pleased and he shut the book with a huff.

“Is there something on my face?”

Apparently, Cam had even less concerns about social mores like ‘don’t stare at people’ or ‘be embarrassed when caught staring’ when he was high, because he just smiled, eyes half-lidded.

“Just like lookin’.”

“Because I’m ‘pretty’?”

The man had declared it about twenty times and he doesn’t deny it now; his smile widened as he hummed an assent. Arcade leaned back in his seat, rubbing his temple. Who would have known that one day he’d be _annoyed_ by having someone so vocally appreciative?

“What am I going to do with you?” He murmured and, rather unexpectedly, Cam flushed.

For the first time in at least an hour, Cam was looking away. Arcade raised an eyebrow and then had to chuckle. He hadn’t realized the potential other meaning his words had.

Or the fact that Cam was thinking about him like _that_ , without his prompting. One thing to be receptive to his flirting, but he did suppose that Cam’s being so _enamored_ right now had implications. He’d have to see if he couldn’t manufacture an opportunity to flirt with him that wasn’t just trying to tease him into blushing-induced anemia and see if those sentiments still rang true. Right now, well, he was doctor enough to not take anything coming out of Cam seriously.

He'd once watched a woman try to seduce an old statue and then fist fight it for ‘rejecting’ her. Drugs did very odd things to the mind, especially around lust.

“I’m afraid I meant that in less exciting fashion.”

There was some definite disappointment to Cam’s face at that, but he managed to suppress the laughter. 

“I can’t be having you running around tackling deathclaws. As much as you’re enjoying the Follower’s hospitality right now, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“‘Cause you saved me.”

Cam seemed determined to be happy right now, even with the seriousness Arcade was trying to impose on him. His hand flipped over and the fingers wriggled, inviting, but Arcade ignored it.

“Barely. If we hadn’t been so close to the Outpost, you would’ve bled out and I wouldn’t have been able to do more than hold your hand while you died.”

Cam glanced at his empty hand with a frown, then cocked his head at Arcade.

“But I didn’t. You saved me’n now we’re safe.”

“After you decided to save _me_ by throwing yourself at a deathclaw.”

Cam nodded and Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose, pulling back his anger. The man wasn’t sober, this conversation was doomed from the start and he probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning, but the moment felt important. If he didn’t tell him _now_ what an idiot he’d been, then it’d be a precedent.

He still remembered the look of the beast bearing down on him, the stomach-falling realization that it had barely even felt the plasma. Knowing that it was faster than him but having to try anyways…

And then Cam charging past.

If the deathclaw hadn’t been a juvenile, they’d be dead right now. Cam first, having practically volunteered for appetizer, and then Arcade. He wouldn’t even have had time to react; he’s _seen_ the bodies after a deathclaw got them. Adults didn’t just kill their victims, they ripped them apart.

A hand took his and he blinked back to find Cam leaning off the bed. He settled, having achieved his goal, and squeezed Arcade’s hand.

“S’okay. We made it.”

Arcade sighed, unable or at least unwilling to take his hand away from Cam.

“You could’ve died, you know. I keep telling you, I’m not a field medic.”

The shrug he received was not reassuring, even if he also got another hand-squeeze.

“I didn’t. It’s m’job.”

Cam yawned and blinked, slow and sleepy, and he didn’t seem particularly concerned at the look Arcade shot him.

“Your _job_?” A nod.

“Keepin’ you safe. Protectin’ people.” His hand is pulled inexorably towards Cam’s face, for nuzzling purposes. “My friend.”

Cam’s breath tickled between his fingers, almost like a kiss, and he barely registered the fact that he was on the edge of his seat now, lifting up so that Cam doesn’t have to move as much. He’s made—but not really—to stroke up the man’s cheek.

“Your job is _not_ to be a meat-shield. For me or anyone else.”

He can’t pull his hand away, but it wasn’t because of Cam. Or, it was, but not due to force. Cam just looked so peaceful, eyes gently shut and content, that he couldn’t fathom denying him right now. It’s not comfortable perching on the end of his seat like this, but the man looked downright angelic. Also, he looked asleep, and Arcade resolved to finish this conversation in the morning. Or whenever it was that Emily determined he could be off med-x.

“ _Ut amantes_ , _servi_.” Cam said, sighed really, and Arcade almost flinched.

“What… did you just say?” He asked, trying to sound calm.

Cam shifted, brushing his lips against Arcade’s palm in a move that was probably accidental, and then his eyes opened. Barely. More of a peek, a decidedly sleepy look to them.

“ _Ubi amor_ , _ibi dolor_.” His eyes closed again, his grip—if it could be called that—loosening on Arcade’s wrist. “My friend.”

Arcade stared at him for a long, long time. It was always surprising to hear Cam speak Latin, but those were… particular phrases. Even with his mumbling the last one, and his rather iffy pronunciation, it was still rather… distinct. Both had very specific, clear meanings.

 _Romantic_ meanings. Or at least devotional. Not to sort of thing he’d expect to be taught in the Legion, except maybe directed at Caesar. That megalomaniac probably got a kick out of the notion of calling love slavery. But still, he wouldn’t have thought Cam would know anything like that. Certainly not to say it to _him_.

Med-x could make people do foolish things, but they don’t give people a sudden knowledge of classical poetry. If he said it, he knew it, and… Arcade wouldn’t do him the disservice of assuming he didn’t know what it meant. He’d underestimated the man enough over their friendship.

Arcade had to wonder his intentions now, in saying that sort of thing to him, and in the past weeks of cuddling and the last hour of compliments (or, one compliment, repeated). He was a little glad that the man was finally asleep, because now he needed the time to process the fact that Cam’s been calling him ‘friend’ but might have been meaning something a good bit deeper than that.

Cam still held his hand, sort of, and Arcade gently shook him off. But he couldn’t help but to touch the man’s face, to intentionally run his fingertips down the sharp jawline. Feelings he hadn’t quite noticed—or, perhaps, feelings he’d intentionally suppressed—stirred in him and for the moment, he allowed it.

“You should come with a warning label.” He murmured, ghosting his thumb over Cam’s bottom lip. “For… radioactive friendship or something. I’ll make that sound clever when you’re awake.” 


	13. Feeding the Rumor Mill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: none

The next morning, Cam looked like death warmed over. Which made sense, coming down off that much med-x would be unpleasant, not to mention the strong antibiotics.

It still freaked Arcade out to walk into the tent and see Cam vacant-eyed and slightly gray. Emily immediately reassured him, in a remarkably non-reassuring way, that it was perfectly normal.

“He’s had nearly a dozen doses of med-x in thirty-six hours. I’m surprised he’s only feeling this poorly, but I cannot give him any more without risking addiction.”

There were other, milder painkillers that she gave him, which was enough for him to sleep, if fitfully. But Julie came and forced him out of the medical tent, hustling him down to his old research station and getting him up to speed on the current plans.

Unwillingly, which she acknowledged before telling him to get over it, he explained what he’d learned while out. She was very excited to hear everything he’d gleaned from Anderson’s library and made plans to send a team out to go hassle the man about sharing.

Arcade made a mental note to be more cautious with his own books, lest Julie commandeer them as well. But thus far he only had fairly common novels, all fictions, so it was safe. Not that he wasn’t fully on board with sharing for the greater good and all, he just didn’t trust Julie’s ability to remember where she’d acquired everything she touched. After all, she was in charge of nearly all Followers in the Mojave.

It was almost nice to settle into his old work, especially since he’d jotted down a few improvements and new ideas after Westside. It also forced him to take his mind off worrying about Cam.

Emily was an excellent doctor, there was a reason that Julie had named her the current Head Surgeon of the Fort, and it wasn’t because she was too busy to oversee the more in-depth medical emergencies.

Or at least, it wasn’t _just_ because of that. Cam was going to be fine, just a little more scarred than before. Now that he’s not franticly trying to stop him from bleeding to death, Arcade can chuckle about the idea of his front matching his back.

A little, at least.

And now with a decent rest in him, Arcade could… _mostly_ let go of Cam’s dip into Latin poetry. Sure, it was three little words away from an outright declaration, but the man was high as a kite. Med-x had been known to, in high enough doses, not just dull pain, but to massively amplify good feelings. Arcade had already known that Cam was _fond_ of him. They were very close friends! It was also likely that he was the one Cam had feelings for and he might have been being a little obstinate in his refusal to accept that.

But it was more than reasonable for that closeness, confused with attraction and maybe a bit of a crush, to manifest as Cam ‘being in love’ with Arcade, when he’d had so much more than the recommended dose.

Cam couldn’t actually be _in love_ with him, they’d hardly known each other long enough for them to be as close as they were! He didn’t know a damn thing about Arcade, not from before they met. Nothing about his past, his _history_ , his family. All important details for ‘being in love’.

It did mean he should ease back on the flirting with Cam. It would hardly be kind, if the man truly has developed an infatuation for him. Maybe later, after those feelings faded, they could have something; he would be lying if he tried to claim he wasn’t interested, now. He’d been thinking about that smoke-sharing incident back in Goodsprings more than he expected he would. But Arcade hardly had any intentions of trying to build some sort of… love affair. He was a little too old be going on that sort of fancy.

Arcade ignored the disquiet at that thought. Daisy had her own opinions about it, of course, but she was wrong about this one thing: he had not been on any tenterhooks wanting a ‘relationship’ with Cam. Just having his friendship was novel—and good—and any anxiety she saw was worry about it being threatened.

Cam was a great man, fun to be around, and very nice to look at, but they were friends. Nothing more or less.

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Routine was hell. Everyone always said war was hell, but no, it was actually routine. Wake up in the morning, eat breakfast with coworkers he barely knew despite having been here for several years now, do whatever research task Julie gave him until dinner, eat, and go to bed. Friendly conversation was a luxury he rarely earned, apparently, because once Cam was well enough to walk, Julie took him as an errand boy. If Arcade was lucky, he got to catch sight of the man’s silhouette once or even twice a day.

Arcade dropped mold number ‘who cares’ into the discards box and turned to find a giant looming over him.

Luckily, he was too tired to do more than flinch, and the giant in question backed up immediately

“Sorry! Forgot to be loud. Sorry. Sorry.”

Arcade took a deep breath and shook off the startle. He grabbed the next petri dish and sat back in his chair.

“I always forgot how quiet you are when you’re not running off like an idi- into battle.”

He’d gotten better at not calling Cam dumb, but it was hard when he was already in a bad mood.

Cam made his not-laugh noise, the embarrassed little huff he did whenever he thought he’d done something wrong. But he didn’t say anything, just continued lengthening Arcade’s shadow, lurking. He set up his microscope in the strange silence, waiting for Cam to say whatever it was he came here for. But he didn’t.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s pretty late. Julie probably has another hundred errands for you tomorrow.”

A dark look flashed over Cam’s face, fast enough that Arcade wasn’t even sure he saw it. Especially not out of the corner of his eye. He leaned back to look at the man properly.

Cam tried to smile, but as per usual, he wasn’t made for deception. Dark circles under his eyes, at least twice as fidgety, and something strangely haunted about his face. Desperate, almost, uncomfortably similar to the withdrawing addicts just a tent over.

“What’s going on?” Arcade asked, trying to sound something closer to gentle, and Cam immediately lost the ability to hold his gaze.

Either Arcade’s lab coat had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the universe or Cam was trying to keep a secret. Last time, it’d been a gecko hatchling in his pocket. But that had also been a near giggling Cam, not… whatever this was.

He mumbled a series of sounds that didn’t really have much meaning other than that he repeated ‘just’ a lot. Arcade waited and Cam fidgeted and the seconds passed slowly before, finally, he crumpled. It was so fast Arcade thought he’d collapsed, but he was just kneeling on the floor next to Arcade’s chair, head dropped low.

“Tired.”

The dirt crunched and then his forehead pressed into Arcade’s thigh. Tension radiated out of him like the sun while Arcade stared at him. Not exactly the sort of face-in-lap situation he’d been in before; it was more like Rex resting against The King’s knee than anything else. He examined his feelings for a moment before opting for the simpler option of boxing them up to focus on Cam.

“You should go to bed.”

The tangle of curls was too tempting. Cautiously, Arcade reached down, and found it softer than he’d expected. Dirty, he needed a shower, but from what he’s heard, Julie’s been running him ragged. Cam’s barely been in camp long enough to eat and, apparently, sleep.

“And tell Julie no sometimes, too. She won’t get mad at you for needing breaks. You’re _supposed_ to be resting.”

Cam still didn’t reply, just scooched closer. His shoulders lifted and then lowered in a long, shuddering breath, and Arcade stroked his hair. Let the man rest, for a few minutes, and take whatever bizarre comfort he got from this. He couldn’t imagine much, the ground was hard and cold and while Arcade agreed that thighs were quite nice, that was in a more sexual context than as a cushion.

After several minutes, it became clear that Cam had no intentions of moving or speaking. But the microscope and its work demanded him, so Arcade gave him one last scratch and then, carefully, resumed studying the far less interesting thing in the room.

In a little bit, he would get bored or finish whatever this was and toddle off to the barracks. Probably soon, since it really couldn’t be comfortable.

Cam shifted, but only to turn his head and set a hand on Arcade’s shin. Not with any intent, probably, but it was definitely _odd_. Arcade glanced down to see Cam looking up. His face was softer, less pained. Still tired, but the small smile he got was genuine.

“You can’t sleep down there.” He said as Cam stroked down his pant leg.

Bizarre sensation.

“Can’t sleep.” He echoed and then shut his eyes.

The smile remained. Arcade looked back at his microscope and then down at the dozing man. It wasn’t really feasible to work like this; he couldn’t reach the box of samples from here and the hand patting his leg was starting to unsettle him.

“Go to bed.” He tried.

Cam did not move. The hand stopped petting and instead wrapped around his ankle in a clear refusal, if nonverbal.

“I need to finish this work. It’s… boring and pointless, but someone’s got to do it. And _you_ need to rest.”

“Am resting.”

He rubbed his cheek against Arcade’s thigh pointedly; he found himself unwillingly smiling and squashed it down. Better try something else before he wound up succumbing to Cam’s puppy eyes and make this busywork take another two hours.

“Why can’t you sleep? Are you in pain?”

He’d gone off the painkillers far earlier than Arcade would’ve suggested, but he’d let it slide since Emily agreed. Cam stiffened a little, one eye peeking up at Arcade.

“…No.”

Arcade raised an eyebrow and that eye quickly shut, Cam twisting to bury his face in thigh again.

“Don’t like…”

Whatever he said was lost to Arcade’s pants. He reached down to stroke Cam’s hair again and then tugged. Not hard, just enough to pull Cam—however unhappily—off his leg. Cam straightened up, shifty-eyed, and Arcade let go.

He noted the longing glance towards his lap and dismissed it.

“Could you repeat that in a way I can hear you?”

Cam stared down a deathclaw but couldn’t manage to even meet Arcade’s eyes. His fingers tapped the dirt, scratching at the hardpacked ground.

“Nightmares.” He ducked his head, but peeked up. “Too… too many people in the barracks. It’s like.” His lips pressed into a thin line, cutting off the end of the sentence, but Arcade nodded.

The barracks weren’t his favorite either. Economical, but it was hard to get restful sleep in a room of twenty, even if you didn’t have a lifetime of bad memories. Or however long Cam’s memory stretched, these days.

“I have a cot in the back you can use.”

For when he wanted a quick nap. Or other quick activities, when he had the research tent to himself. He had been sleeping it in himself, these past few days, and now found himself a little guilty about it.

“Are you gonna sleep soon?”

Cam had barely glanced at the cot before giving Arcade the most nervously hopeful look he’d ever seen. Little heart-wrenching actually, and it was Arcade’s turn to look away, to the stack of samples to go through.

“Not for another hour. I have to finish these and get the good ones back in the incubator. But you take the cot tonight, I don’t mind the barracks. I’m used to them.”

Cam hesitated and then a hand was on his knee, leaning into his bubble a little bit before backing off only to repeat the hovering exercise.

“I don’t want… to be alone. Can we… together? Like camp?”

Arcade did his best to not look at his eyes, he knew that the second he saw that sweet, hopeful look he’d be lost, and he did not want the entire Fort drawing the assumptions they would at finding them in that tiny cot together. Not to mention the fact that neither of them were small people; the cot was exactly big enough to not leave Arcade on the floor if he shifted in his sleep. His luck, the damn thing would break the second he got on.

“You don’t have to.” Cam said and Arcade wished he was a better liar because that was the smallest voice in the world. “I just like… uh. You? It’s nice.”

He started to pull away and Arcade caught his hand automatically, pushing it back onto his knee. He’d already let Cam be the almost death of him a hundred times, why not kill his reputation while he’s at it? Half the Fort had decided they were together already, and the other half had worse rumors.

“Get in bed. I’ll be there once I’m done.”

Cam lit up like he’d declared the war was over, Caesar was dead, and also he was bringing back Christmas as a cultural phenomenon. He flopped back over Arcade’s lap to hug round Arcade’s middle, his chin very nearly hitting some rather delicate parts.

“Okay, okay, go on. Sooner you let me work, sooner I finish.”

He patted Cam uncertainly, tense, and Cam sensed it and let go.

“Sorry. Just uh. Glad.”

He fidgeted for a second, neither of them looking at each other, and then he heaved himself upward. Arcade made himself not watch him go, to instead go back to his work.

He could hear Cam though. The rustling cloth that meant he was getting changed, then the drag and clunk of his pack. He must have set it down before Arcade noticed him. Which was a little unnerving, to have been supervised unknowingly.

Once Cam was settled, Arcade let himself peek. To make sure he was actually in bed, he told himself. Which, he was, all tucked in and waiting. Arcade ignored the pull, the desire to leave the rest of this ‘til tomorrow, and picked up his notes once more.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-It was lucky this particular job didn’t need much thought because his focus was wrecked. He was painfully aware of the man in the corner of the room and try as he might, he couldn’t stop _dwelling_.

Arcade could remember his first conversation with Cam pretty much perfectly. It wasn’t every day that a humming giant strolled into the Fort, after all. He’d also been treated to a not at all subtle up-and-down look, which had been what caught his attention in the first place.

Tall, broad-shouldered muscle men walked through Freeside pretty regularly, what with Camp McCarran just down the way and hundreds of soldiers on R&R breezing past on their way into New Vegas, but ones that gave him the Look were a little more uncommon.

He preferred to think it’s because he’d been focusing on working rather than fooling around in the bars. But a good work ethic wouldn’t have him turning down someone delivered right to his door. 

His hopes had been dashed when he spoke to Cam though. The understandable, if frustrating, suspicion when Arcade spoke Latin was fine, but the need to have everything explained twice was a bit of a deterrent. He liked being the smartest in the room, but he preferred his lovers literate.

Which now was a remarkably cruel judgement, but he could stand to be honest in his own memory. He resisted the urge to look over to the corner of the room, where Cam was hopefully sleeping but probably just watching him. He adjusted the lens of the microscope and kept working.

He hadn’t tried to talk to Cam again after that first conversation. Looked at him, certainly; just because he wasn’t interested in actually bedding the man didn’t mean he suddenly wasn’t attractive. Arcade particularly enjoyed when Julie had him hauling stuff around camp. They should’ve sold tickets to the ‘watch Cam cheerfully move large objects, shirtless’ show. Could’ve funded the whole operation for months.

Cam had stayed for what, two weeks? Then disappeared for a while, long enough for Arcade to pretty much forget about him. Until he popped up again to just loiter strangely around, asking if anyone needed help.

And sticking firmly in Arcade’s periphery. Glancing occasionally, hopefully. He’s not sure what prompted Cam to finally approach him. Or what possessed him to say yes, he would like to travel.

He pushed away from his desk to look up at the ceiling. The last petri dish was viable, hallelujah, bringing the current number to thirty-seven live samples and sixty-three petri dishes to scrub. His head hurt, a tension headache from squinting into microscopes all day. From hunched shoulders and tiny, faded print in damaged books.

He swiveled around in his chair to frown at Cam. Who, predictably, was watching him. No attempt at hiding his stalking or his exhaustion.

“Y’okay?” Arcade shut his eyes, rubbing his temples.

A few weeks at the Fort. Time off for Cam’s wounds to heal and catch up on what was technically his actual job. It was a good plan on paper. He forgotten how boring the work here was and how much worse it would be, compared to being out in the field.

He resolutely ignored the quieter complaint that he didn’t expect Julie to entirely co-opt Cam.

He looked over his desk and decided that the molds would probably survive a night on the counter. And if they didn’t, well, this was a dead end anyway. The only medical property these samples had was a remarkably strong tendency to induce vomiting and it wasn’t like the Mojave was particularly lacking in emetics.

Arcade got up and walked over to the cot. Cam shoved himself to the side, leaving as much room as he could, which amounted to about four inches, give or take. He tossed his lab coat on top of Cam’s dropped pack and clambered directly onto the man. He was careful to avoid his sides, but that was about all he had in him.

If Cam objected, he sure as hell didn’t show it. Within moments Arcade was bundled, nuzzled, and damn near smothered. He couldn’t muster the will to fight it, not right now, so he just tucked his face against Cam’s torso and let the man have his way with him.

Which was not the usual way he did much of anything, but he was tired and sore and sick of his own head. Maybe he ought to try Cam’s lifestyle and rustle up a nice 9 millimeter relaxer.

“Missed you.” Cam mumbled into his hair.

Maybe it was the words, or the uncertain-but-relieved way he said it, or the strong hands rubbing his back, or the fact that he was literally entirely cradled from head to foot, but it hit like a sucker punch, knocking a breath out of Arcade’s lungs. He thought for a moment—again—of the declaration Cam didn’t remember making, the insinuation that Arcade still wasn’t willing to ask about. But it didn’t matter. He shut his eyes while Cam proved himself a very comfortable massage bed.

“Me too, big guy.”


	14. The King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: alcohol mention

They overslept, by hours. Which wasn’t helped by how long it took for Arcade to talk himself into getting off of his very willing mattress. He didn’t know how long he laid there, periodically mumbling that they should get up, while Cam stroked his back and his hair and occasionally down his arms.

Give the man a mile and he’d use every single inch, apparently. Arcade’s hair had never been more thoroughly ruffled nor his body more relaxed. He wouldn’t have expected sleeping on Cam to be so comfortable, for either of them, but Cam seemed much more at ease as well.

Of course, now he hovered just outside of Arcade’s personal bubble, and kept shooting him shining looks that were far too _honest_. But he found himself oddly non-begrudging. Even with the muffled chuckles from his coworkers when they emerged together at nearly lunchtime.

Julie hadn’t even mentioned the fact that the molds—which thankfully did survive—never made it back to the incubator. Just told him good work on clearing out the bad ones.

And also, while she had their attention, she also wanted all the discards fully cleaned and reset and could Cam accompany her to a meeting with The King and also hunt down some Freesiders who hadn’t been in a while and and and

Arcade lost track of Cam’s to do list by the fourth item, but he’d just filled them into his pip-boy, tongue poking out a little. Once he’d repeated each one back to her for confirmation, he stole the world’s fastest hug from Arcade and sped off.

He’d barely had time to ‘oof’ before the man was gone, much to Julie’s concealed amusement. And after receiving both the bizarre compliment that they ‘looked good together’ and a letter that had come in, he found himself back where his journey started: alone in the research tent, hiding from whispers.

He opened the letter and skimmed it. It was from Daisy. Wanting to know if he ever planned on writing again or if he’d gone and died. Distinctly disapproving of his silence.

Arcade sat on the edge of his cot. They’d last visited a month ago, but he does suppose he hasn’t been keeping to his promise to write. And not for any good reason, since they’d been in towns.

She also asked about Cam, pestering him for more details like he had any more to give her after the last time she pumped him for information. Nothing but further confirmation that Cam had less than no self-preservation skills.

She’d word it differently though, she’d probably say something about the passion that takes you when you’re defending someone that you care about, like they’d known each other for years instead of just five months.

He paused to redo that math and oddly enough, it held true. Which… didn’t actually seem all that long, now that he thought about it. Barely a blink of an eye, and yet he and Cam were so _close_.

Not close enough for Cam to actually know more of Arcade than his name, but still.

He looked down at the letter again, considering. Cam wouldn’t begrudge him some time away, he was sure, except for the part where it would take him a week’s travel to get there and back again. On one hand, Julie could keep watch over Cam and there were certainly plenty of doctors if something went wrong. On the other, he… didn’t really like the idea of leaving Cam alone that long. It had barely been a week here at the Fort and he was already struggling to cope _and_ trying to keep his issues a secret from his _doctor_. Which reminded him, he needed to talk to Cam about those nightmares and make sure they weren’t pain induced.

The man certainly had enough in his head to cause regular nightmares, but some sedatives could help.

Of times to visit, this was pretty ideal. When he got back, Cam should be healed enough to continue on their meandering through the Mojave and probably very eager. He got antsy staying in one place long. If Cam took the cot in the research tent, then that would deal with half the sleeping problem. And again, of places to have a breakdown, the middle of a Follower’s camp was pretty ideal. There were _actual_ medical doctors here.

Arcade chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. Mostly about how… not great it felt, considering the perfectly sensible plan. Even if he wanted to, he shouldn’t bring Cam out into the desert right now. His stitches weren’t ready to come out and he still didn’t have full range of motion. Even if they somehow didn’t get in a single fight on the way (and with how infested the road was, that seem unlikely), just the exertion of hiking was liable to rip them.

If he pushed it off a week, after they came out… Daisy would make assumptions of course, his bringing Cam to see her _again_ , but he seemed oblivious to those sorts of comments. Hell, that was assuming Cam didn’t immediately shoot off with Boone or Manny, for the sort of raucous trouble that Arcade preferred to avoid. But even if Cam did decide to stick by Arcade, Daisy would just continue on with trying to rile one of them into the other’s bed.

Which was horribly embarrassing, but Cam didn’t notice and maybe she’d get bored of it, eventually. More importantly, he didn’t have to worry about Cam finding out anything he shouldn’t. She was an old-hand at keeping _that_ secret, after all. They might be _friends_ and currently caught swirling the drain on that growing into something more, but he still had no plans to share his tragic backstory yet. Or ever, really.

Then again, he didn’t quite plan on spending half a year with him, and wasn’t that odd, the way that their time together was both so long and so short. But he’d figured it’d be two weeks, a month tops, just a little jaunty vacation to break up the monotony. And now, they were… whatever they were. Friends who sleep together, but not in _that_ sense. Cam trusted him with what little memories he had left, faltering and hesitant, but given freely. Even about his past with the Legion, things he knew he did and what he feared he might have.

If it was an argument about fairness, Arcade supposed he owed the man the same honesty. Cam’s words echoed in his head, the sighing whisper of Latin. Where there is love, there is pain. A meaningless platitude, but he supposed the Remnants had love and pain in spades. It certainly wasn’t love between him and Cam—and he strangled the ‘yet’—but it sounded better than ‘where there are muddy but ultimately positive feelings, there are awkward, uncomfortable conversations’.

And what an awkward, uncomfortable conversation that telling Cam about _them_ be. Not to mention the fact that he’d probably have to start well before his own beginning, since Cam would have no idea what the Enclave had been or hell, what ‘America’ even was. On one hand, he knew that logically, there was about a three percent chance that Cam did anything other than hug him. That three percent was mostly him just plain not understanding.

The odds of Cam reacting _negatively_? There was no logical basis for the fear, other than a mild worry that he’d forget to keep it a secret or something equally slapstick. Which was hardly fair, Cam might spend a lot of time with NCR, but he still only trusted them as individuals; if Arcade asked him to not share any of those details, he wouldn’t.

But on the other hand, the lesson about how bad lovers were as confidants was one hard-learned. His judgement had been wrong there and who was to say it wasn’t again?

Arcade exhaled hard and then shook his head. Cam really had done a number on his focus; all he had to do was pen a response to Daisy and then get back to work. He would make sure that they swung through Novac once Cam was healed. No use in worrying about telling Cam any sordid details right now, it wasn’t relevant. One painful social interaction at a time and maybe some good old fashioned repression for good measure.

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Arcade wasn’t concerned when Cam hadn’t returned by dinner. Julie wasn’t there either, so the meeting with The King probably just ran later than expected. He still wasn’t concerned when night fell, Freeside was dangerous, sure, but not for anyone near as experienced as Julie and Cam. Not to mention, being a Follower afforded one certain benefits among rough neighborhoods. No one wanted to mug the people keeping grandma alive, after all.

He was a little concerned at lunchtime, but he also was up to his elbows in work, so he just tamped it down. Cam had probably returned while he was busy and had his own things to do. It was worrying when day became dusk and he’d still not seen Cam. By that night, when Emily asked why he hadn’t showed up for his appointment, Arcade was halfway out the door with his pack. 

“The King asked Cam to stay. Didn’t twist his arm or anything.”

Julie barely looked up from her work. Her desk was overflowing with papers, even more so than usual.

“And you let him?”

She gave him a rather unimpressed look.

“I’m not his babysitter. Besides, The King likes him. It’s not like I left him in the Wrangler.”

“Not sure that they’re much better.” Arcade muttered and she rolled her eyes.

“Go and get him if you’re that worried then. _I_ have work to do. Cam’s got the situation in Freeside smoother than ever and we need to use this opportunity to strengthen our foothold.”

He was forgotten almost immediately as she set into her work, jumping from maps to several different letters and all sorts of other logistics while muttering plans to herself. He took a moment to be glad he wasn’t an administrator and then left, mentally bracing himself for dealing with the Kings.

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Luckily enough, the goons holding up the door were the same trio that had escorted them into Freeside. 

“Oh yo, it’s Cam’s doctor!”

“‘Ey, you here for the Prince?”

“Well he ain’t here for your jokes.”

There was a scuffle, a few mock punches, and Arcade cleared his throat.

“Oh, right. Go on in, hang a left to the stage room. The King wants to see you.”

Ominous, but he nodded his thanks and headed inside. No one paid him much mind, too busy re-styling their slicked-back hair or practicing the same rote lines over and over again.

The Kings did alright by Freeside, keeping the streets clean, but their cultish behavior always unsettled Arcade. A man leaned against the wall next to the door, picking at his fingernails with a pen knife.

“You that Follower doctor runnin’ round with the Prince?”

“If you mean Cam, then yes.”

The man snorted, giving him a dismissive look over.

“Bookish type. Would’ve figured him into someone a bit more… more. King’s waiting for you. Said to waive the usual fee.”

He thumped his fist against the wall behind him and Arcade opted to move on. Let the man keep his dramatic effect.

The King sat in front of the stage, idly flipping through a magazine, Rex curled up at his feet. The dog looked up at his approach, tail wagging.

“What is it Rex- oh hello. And to what do I owe the pleasure of another Follower appointment?”

He set the magazine down and lifted up a tumbler filled with amber liquid like a toast. Arcade raised his eyebrows.

“I was told you were waiting for me. And that Cam was here.”

“Ah, you’re the one then. Cam’s right on upstairs, don’t you worry about him. He may not be a King, but he has all the hospitality we can offer here.” He swirled the glass in his hand. “I wanted to put some eyes on you, see what we were working with.”

Arcade was getting pretty sick of the posturing, especially with how amused The King seemed to be at his frustration. He took a slow sip and then leaned back, stretching out his legs.

“I won’t keep you long. Didn’t ask Cam to stay for any particular reason, man’s just been looking dog-tired lately and I thought a little relaxin’ Kings-style would do him good. My girls are the cure for _anything_ that ails you, y’know. So, we took him ‘round the Strip to loosen up.”

He topped up his glass and Arcade wondered if this was actually the short version.

“Very interested to hear about his latest escapades. Tackling a deathclaw takes a helluva lot of heart.”

Another pause and Arcade resisted the urge to groan. 

“Is there going to be a question in any of this? Or did you just want an audience for your soliloquy?”

The King laughed, unbothered.

“Alright, alright. I’ll hurry it up. I wanted to know what sort of man inspires that kind of heroics. Cam might not be one of my boys in blood, but he’s family just the same.”

“…What?”

He tapped a finger against the glass, making a _plink-plink-plink-plink_ sound.

“My boys ain’t allowed to chase after Cam, on my orders. Don’t want anyone confusing the poor sap, or accidentally leading him into something. But he went and picked you, all intentionally. Wouldn’t be doing my due diligence as The King if I didn’t check you out myself.”

“You… what?”

Somehow, the explanation had him more lost. The King straightened up in his chair and then rolled his shoulders, all leisurely like.

“No need to bristle. Just want to ask you a question, then you’re free to go and collect our boy.” He considered Arcade. “Cam’s already got a score of heartaches, even if he don’t remember half. You plannin’ on adding to them?”

Of all the things he’d expected from this meeting, having The King suddenly become a concerned older brother was not a contender. He would’ve put a ransom to be paid in hair gel before that.

But the man’s eyes don’t hold any mirth anymore. No animosity, just a focused intensity.

Like it or not, Julie would kill him if he wrecked the Followers/Kings allegiance. He crossed his arms and met the gaze head on.

“I’ve no intentions to hurt Cam. I’m a doctor and, more relevantly, he’s my friend.”

The King nodded slowly, eyes peering into his like they’re trying for his soul, and then a wide smile broke out.

“Glad to hear it. Cam’s just upstairs, getting some TLC from my girls. Third floor, straight through my room. Knock first though, they don’t take kindly to unannounced guests.”

Arcade opted to not think about what TLC meant and started off, before he stopped. The King looked at him, expectantly.

“Why does everyone keeping calling him ‘the prince’?” The King gave a soft laugh, pouring himself another glass.

“It’s just a joke, on account of his not actually being a King but my being so fond of him. But you get on fetching Cam. Starting to think the girls like him better’n me.”


	15. Made Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: alcohol mention

The King’s room was ridiculous—a heart shaped bed, really?—and the air was heavy with the smell of old sex and spilled whiskey. But he found the door that presumably led to the ‘girl’s’ bedroom and paused, straining his ears a moment.

He didn’t really want to _interrupt_ anything going on in there. He had no idea what ‘TLC’ meant in this particular case—he would’ve assumed that The King’s girlfriends would be off-limits to anyone else but his assumptions today weren’t that accurate—and he really, really wasn’t in the mood for walking in on anyone. There was giggling and low voices, but no telltale squeaking bedsprings. Gathering himself, he knocked. A duo of feminine voices sang out a “come in!” and he opened the door, bracing himself.

There was no way for him to be prepared for this.

A redhead in a flouncy nightie was straddling Cam’s lap, apparently in the middle of applying lipstick. Her hand still held his chin steady. Behind them, a similarly-dressed brunette was sitting on a vanity, kicking her feet dangerously close to Cam’s head.

“Oooh you must be Arcade!” The brunette squealed, twirling a comb. “Come in, come in. We’re just about done with Cami!”

Cam tried to speak, but the redhead twisted his head back to her, tutting.

“Stay still, I haven’t finished your makeup yet.”

“I’m Priscilla, by the way, and she’s Stella.” The brunette said, leaning forward to futz with Cam’s hair.

Cam didn’t seem at all distressed, though slightly embarrassed given the pink climbing up his neck and ears. But Arcade could imagine that a moment ago he’d been at ease, listening to these two chatter on.

Arcade walked around them to see Cam face on and bit the inside of his cheek. Over the past few months, his hair had grown long and wild, but Priscilla’d tamed it back. Not like the slick gelled look of the Kings; she’d trimmed it quite a bit along the sides but left it curly on top. Still natural looking and messy, but it seemed more… flirtatious, somehow. Touchable. Not that it hadn’t been pleasant to pet last night, but now it just seemed to be asking for a quick tousle.

Stella was doing his face up and it… wasn’t a bad look for him. A bit garish certainly, the eyeshadow dark and the rouge a touch too vibrant, but certainly eye-catching.

Cam’s hand lifted to wave a little, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile, and Arcade waved back.

“This what you’ve been up to all day?”

He wasn’t allowed to respond, Stella twisting his head to the side and waggling her fingers impatiently until Priscilla handed over a pencil.

“Not all day, but he was just _begging_ for a makeover.”

“He’s already a cutie, but with the right work, he’s one heck of a hunk.”

Arcade started to respond, but then noticed a sparkling stud in Cam’s ear. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the two girls, who were both wearing much more extravagant, dangling earrings. 

“You pierced his ears?”

“Yes! Kingie is such a sweetie and when he took us to the jeweler, he saw how much Cam liked them.”

“So, he bought him a pair! Aren’t they darling?”

They were distracting, certainly. And an infection risk that Cam really didn’t need right now. But Arcade kept the thought to himself, already feeling like an intruder to the party. Stella released Cam’s face and the man articulated his jaw.

“Hi, ‘Cade.” An uncertain voice, shy, and matched by the way his eyes flicked between Arcade’s face and shirt.

“Awh!” The girls cooed in unison and it did not make Cam blush any less.

Which did serve to balance out the slightly too bright rouge and really, it was not at _all_ a bad look for Cam. Arcade looked him over, not bothering to hide it since the girls were clearly wanting him too.

The King had, apparently, also seen fit to outfit him as well. He was wearing a clean button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose those forearms Arcade knew not well enough. His face was no longer curtained by a mop of hair but clean and freshly shaven. Stella hopped off Cam’s lap so Arcade could properly look.

Cam fidgeted, but there was a strange light to his eyes, even with the discomfort. He had felt the power of Cam’s puppy-dog begging before, but this was something else; the eyeshadow or liner or _something_ had him barely able to look away from the captivating brown. His lips were no less enchanting, especially with the nervous nibbling. Bright red, just-kissed-senseless red, going-to-leave-a-mark red.

Arcade coughed and looked to the girls, who were beyond smug.

“Told you, Cami.”

“Speechless.”

“Means you owe us!”

“Ooh, what should we ask for?”

“Do I look… nice?” Cam asked and they blinked as one before turning serpentine smiles on Arcade.

“Well, go on doc, does he?”

“ _We_ know he looks damn dashing, but he doesn’t much care for our opinions.” A sniff.

“Or any other woman’s for that matter.” Priscilla muttered under her breath and Stella shot her a look.

“But what do _you_ think? After all,”

“You’re his _friend_!” They finished together and Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yes.” He said, because that was the truth, and he also had no desire to say anything more in front of the peanut gallery.

“Annnnnnd? Come on, aren’t you supposed to be clever? Cam told us you know all sorts of things.”

“S’ok, Stella. I just wanted to look nice.”

There wasn’t any hiding the disappointment in Cam’s eyes and as much as it rankled, Arcade didn’t know what to do about it with an audience. Cam started to get out of the chair, but Priscilla lifted one shapely leg and rested it on his shoulder. She looked at Arcade and got a decidedly dangerous glint in her eye. 

“Cam, you look like you walked out of some glamor magazine.”

Stella glanced at her and then the same wicked smile hit her lips.

“No, he’s one of them fancy pin-up boys. The ones that Pacer likes.”

“A tv-star! Couldn’t you just see him on the big screen, flashing those dimples and charmin’ everyone he meets?”

“Or on that big old billboard out on the highway! Folks woulda come from miles to see that smile.”

That did the trick and Cam laughed and the girls joined in the giggles, while Arcade forced a smile. The King had been right, these two were really a cure-all, and maybe he should’ve just waited for Cam to come back. This time, Priscilla let him get up, and hopped to her feet herself.

“You sure you _have_ to go?” She whined while he shrugged on his pack.

“You could staaaay.” Stella wheedled and Arcade tried not to look too invested in Cam’s reply.

“Got work. I’ll come back though, soon.”

Twin pouts, twin sighs, and then twin cheek kisses, both of them pressing into Cam in a way that Arcade supposed would be enticing for someone interested in women.

It occurred to him, for a moment, that he still wasn’t _entirely_ sure if that included Cam. Given that the man just dropped a kiss to their foreheads, he suspected not.

“But don’t forget my birthday!” Stella added, grabbing his hand.

“You _have_ to come to the party!”

“Your doctor-fella too!” Arcade got pointed at and Cam nodded.

Then girls sing-songed their goodbyes and Arcade did his best not to be unsettled by the quartet of daggers they stared into his back.

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Cam ducked into the second floor, without warning, and left Arcade standing awkwardly on the stairwell. A few minutes later, he returned, and Arcade could’ve kicked himself. The man’s face was scrubbed clean, the skin rubbed red, especially around his eyes. He smiled, a tiny thing, and they walked in silence the rest of the way out, except for every time they passed a King and Cam had to give them a high five.

Arcade found his tongue again out on the street, once they’d made it away from the rest of the Kings. It was late enough that the streets were pretty much empty, just the sounds of their footsteps echoing down and the occasional shout from the Wrangler.

“Did you have fun?”

The air between them was tense, Cam quiet and a half-step farther away then he normally walked. He got a strange look from Cam, something uncertain and oddly nervous.

“Yeah. I…” A long breath and then a huff. “Sorry you had to get me. I-”

“Don’t apologize. I got a little… paranoid and convinced myself you were hurt. _I’m_ sorry I interrupted.” Cam blinked and then stopped walking.

“You were worried?”

Arcade did not cross his arms, even if he wanted to, but he did give his best unimpressed look. Cam didn’t seem to notice.

“You missed your check-up with Emily. And the last time anyone saw you was last night. You could’ve been jumped or pulled a stitch or… I don’t know, one of those idiots could tried a new knife trick and stabbed you.”

He didn’t mean to sound so defensive—or manic—but Cam was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I…” Cam squinted at him, tilting his head, like he was one of those pre-war optical illusion puzzles and he just needed to get the right angle. “I didn’t mean to worry you. Are you mad at me?”

Arcade rubbed his temples, willing the man to stop staring at him but knowing that there wasn’t any power in the universe strong enough to compel Cam.

“No. Feeling a little stupid and I wish you’d told me that you’d be having a sleepover, so I didn’t have to spend all day-”

“You were worried _all day_?” Cam interrupted and Arcade would offer up whatever any devil wanted if he could restart this conversation so he could not say anything and they could just walk back to the Fort in disjointed silence.

“Well my best friend went and almost died on me, so you’ll have to forgive some protective instincts.” He snapped.

Cam gaped at him and then, damn him, his eyes went watery. But before Arcade could do more than curse at the inadvertent slip, Cam yanked him into a hug that crushed the air out of him. 

Cam’s face was buried in his neck, with a suspicious dampness pressed against his skin. Arcade could only slightly note that, as the more important sensation was the need to breathe.

“Cam… looser. Air.”

He was released in an instant, but not really. Cam stayed snuggled in, all wrapped around Arcade’s body, and it wasn’t exactly a struggle to just accept his fate. Cam sniffled a little pathetically when Arcade reciprocated the hug, patting his back.

“Didn’t mean to worry you.”

His arms tightened at the admission and Arcade braced himself for another rib-testing, but it stayed bearable. Nice, even. He made a mental note to see if he could figure out where the King’s got their soap from, because Cam smelled good. Musky, but not overpowering, and a hint of earth.

“Are you crying?”

Not really the question he should ask, because the answer was yes. Unless Cam was licking him, but that seemed unlikely in the current context. Cam didn’t answer, just buried his face harder against his shoulder, fingers digging into his lab coat. It wasn’t the broken sobbing of a few months ago, during the Super Mutant incident; it was just sniffling tears and Cam clutching Arcade tight.

“You’re my best friend too.” Cam whispered.

Or, Arcade was pretty sure he whispered. His voice was wobbly and broken up. Arcade suppressed a sigh at the waterworks and just stroked the man’s back, letting him get it out. After a few minutes, Arcade hyperaware of the fact that they were just in the middle of the street and at any moment people could appear. 

“I wouldn’t think you’d have to cry about that. I get that I’m boring and al-”

He just about swallowed his tongue as Cam suddenly whipped off him, stern faced even with the hopefully happy tears. Cam had him by his shoulders, holding him out but also firm enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be going anywhere if he decided to bolt.

“Nuh uh, you’re not boring. You’re the best ‘n’ _nobody_ talks about my best friend like that.”

Arcade raised his eyebrows.

“What, or you’ll fight me about it? Are you threatening me _over_ me?” Cam nodded, serious. “What are you going to do?”

The wrong question to ask because suddenly, Cam scooped him up by his armpits and held him aloft in the air. It was only a few inches, but Arcade clutched his wrists, feet dangling.

“Put me down!”

He did and Arcade swept his hands over his torso, re-settling his shirt. Took a few moments to calm down, breathe, let his heartrate return to normal.

“Do not. Do that. Again.” He said as firmly as he could manage.

“Don’t be mean to _my_ best friend then.”

One of them was insane and the scary thing was, Arcade wasn’t sure who anymore.

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It was later that evening, after Cam was chastised for missing his check-up (Emily was in high demand) and they were preparing for bed, that the image of Cam all made up popped back into Arcade’s head. And, more painfully, the disappointed _hurt_ in his eyes when Arcade didn’t say anything more than agree that he looked nice.

There was also the matter of Stella’s birthday, apparently, and the fact that he was expected to attend.

“You and the King’s girlfriends are very close.” He said, conversationally, while Cam settled onto the cot.

Arcade opted to sit in his desk chair for the moment, under the guise of finishing some work while he waited for Cam to be mostly asleep. He wasn’t that tired and snuggling up to Cam as close as they had to in that tiny cot would make it hard to fall asleep.

Pun unintended.

“They’re fun.”

The silver stud flashed in the light as Cam turned his head to smile at Arcade.

“Do they usually play dress-up on you?” Cam flushed, but nodded, fingers twitching until he hid them under the blanket. “Do you like it?”

He already knew the answer, but _he_ liked making Cam blush.

“S’fun.”

Arcade leaned back in his chair at the not-quite answer, considering the man in his bed. Currently he seemed intent on hiding in the blanket, away from Arcade’s eyes. The next question was not one he would get an answer to, but he was intensely curious. Was Cam’s embarrassment due to the idea that Arcade would make fun of him or—infinitely more enticing—due to the fact that Cam _liked_ dress-up.

“They did an excellent job with your makeup.” He said, eventually, and Cam perked up immediately. “I didn’t say more at the time, but you looked…”

The pause was for dramatic effect, the Kings being contagious apparently, and if he let it dangle long enough, he thought Cam might literally fall out of the bed.

“Stunning.” Cam’s eyes widened and then he couldn’t quite stay still or meet Arcade’s eyes anymore. “I believe it was Stella who had it best. You easily could have been the front page of any magazine.”

“I thought-” Cam swallowed whatever it was he was about to say, pressing his lips together. “I mean, uh. Thanks.”

Arcade let the smile take his face as he nodded. He spun in his chair, to face his desk.

“You thought I didn’t like it. That’s why you washed it off.” He continued, after a few moments.

The bed rustled, fabrics shifting.

“…Yeah.”

A quiet admission, the hurt from before lingering a little. Arcade reached for his notes.

“I dislike _sharing_. When I am speaking to someone, I want all of their attention.”

An intentionally ironic statement, given that he’s currently pretending to assemble his work materials, but Cam would probably fare better without Arcade’s scrutiny.

Not to mention, having this talk and then trying to go to sleep pressed head to toe with the man? Arcade enjoyed a little teasing, some delayed gratification, but that was several hours too long.

…Especially since he was supposed to _stop_ flirting with Cam.

“So… You didn’t say anything… Cause Stella and Prissy were there?”

What a horrid nickname, Arcade thought.

“Yes.”

Cam went quiet at this revelation, thinking it over, and Arcade settled in to work until Cam stopped fidgeting.

“Stella’s birthday is in two days.” Cam said, suddenly.

“She mentioned it.”

Arcade had little desire to go. Not to pigeonhole himself as a stay-at-home, introverted bookworm, but he wasn’t exactly a party animal.

“Will you… come with me? You don’t have to. It’s at Gom- Gomar? Uh,”

“Gomorrah?” Arcade offered, wrinkling his nose.

The King _would_ have a birthday party at a strip club.

“I know you don’t like the Strip. Stella was just teasin’ me when she said you had to come.”

Arcade made him wait a few seconds, taking the time to actually write a bit while he considered saying no. He wouldn’t, because Cam asked him to with that hopeful little voice and he was a goddamn sucker apparently, but it was nice to pretend for the moment that he wasn’t going to willingly give up an evening to supervise debauchery.

“You should know that I usually spend parties sitting in the corner.”


	16. Birthday Strip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Alcohol and drunken interactions (sexual but not outright sex), Dom/sub tones, gambling

Cam had quietly taken his hand the moment they were through the gates and Arcade was trying to act like it hadn’t immediately buoyed his mood.

He wasn’t _trying_ to be grouchy, but the opulence of the Strip just a few feet away from the squalor of Freeside was aggravating.

Arcade was mollified slightly by the look of shock on Cam’s face as they entered Gomorrah. It took a little prompting to get him moving again, to pull him away from watching the gamblers jeer and staring at the sparkling lights.

He, foolishly, had the thought that perhaps the night would be peaceful, maybe even enjoyable, watching Cam get wildly overstimulated by the sparkling vices. But then they hit a snag in the plan, once they climbed down the stairs to the Lower Brimstone.

“Where did he say to meet?” Arcade asked.

“Here?” Cam said, softly, looking around. “Uh. Downstairs of Gomorrah. So, here.”

Arcade scanned the room again: there was a bar, the stage with its dancers, and several patrons. None were Kings, just a few Omerta thugs.

“I’ll go ask the bartender.” Arcade said, finally, and then fixed Cam with a look. “Keep a look out, but stay put.”

Cam nodded, standing up straight, and Arcade headed off. Telling Cam to stay put had a solid sixty/forty success rate so far, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was going to fall in his favor right now; the man sometimes got distracted in a regular marketplace.

With all the glitz, glam, and glittering bodies, he didn’t want to put too much reliance on Cam’s focus.

Luckily, it only took a quick conversation—and no bribe, even—to find out that the King had rented one of the party rooms. Arcade made his way over to where he left Cam to find a dancer instead, leaning against the wall. She eyed him up as he approached, clearly preparing her sell.

“Excuse me, my friend was just here. Did you see where he went?” He asked, before she could start, and she clucked her tongue.

“Was he that big fella?” She held her hands apart, demonstrating just how broad Cam was, and Arcade nodded. “He didn’t look like he was enjoying himself, so I sent him to the men’s room.”

Arcade paused—confused by the idea of a restroom being enjoyable—and then she pointed over his shoulder.

“Ooh, I think he might’ve had too much fun.”

There was a giggle in her voice and he spun to see Cam hightailing it down a hallway, face beet red. There was something oddly stiff about the way he walked and, with a look towards the dancer, Arcade headed over to where the man stopped, behind a potted plant. He was swiping at his face when Arcade approached.

“You alright?” He asked and Cam jumped.

He looked like a gecko for a minute, just big, wide eyes. Arcade couldn’t think of a time when he’d managed to sneak up on Cam. It was kind of funny, from this end of it.

“Wrong room. Not uh...” He coughed, avoiding looking at Arcade. “Wrong room.”

Arcade looked down the hall he’d just run from, intrigued at what had Cam so flustered. There was a curtained archway at the end, where smooth jazz played. They were already late to the birthday party; a few more minutes to sate his curiosity would be fine.

Cam trailed in his shadow, unwilling but evidently unable to resist.

It was just a smaller dance floor, but with one key difference that had Arcade fighting down a smile. All the dancers were men, some in fishnets and latex ‘shorts’, others as pornographic cowboys, and even a few ‘soldiers’.

One dancer—a cowboy, with tasseled shorts and a vest—approached the pair. The sashay was exaggerated and the glitter a bit much, but Arcade did have to admit a certain appeal.

“Back for a second try, sweetheart?” He purred, looking at Cam. “Or are you just going to hide behind your handsome friend here?”

Apparently the second one, prompting a throaty chuckle from the dancer.

“Never seen such a shy face before, not on a body like that.” He hummed and then looked Arcade up and down, evaluating. “Or is it because he ain’t _allowed_?”

“He can look.” Arcade said, not correcting the dancer’s assumption about their relationship. “But we were just looking for the party rooms.”

The cowboy jutted out a hip, propping his hand on it.

“You want the other hallway, past the bar.” Arcade nodded and elbowed Cam to stop hovering so close. “You two come back now. Maybe your third try can get you _in_ the room!”

The dancer’s laughter echoed down the hall. They walked in silence, Cam entirely missing the message about personal space.

“Never been propositioned by a dancer before?” Arcade asked, stopping Cam once they reached the hallway.

Ostensibly, to give him a minute to recollect himself, because he was still glowing and fidgety. But maybe also for a little digging, indulging his curiosity a little more.

“Not uh… Just the pretty ladies.” Arcade looked him over, noting that he still wasn’t able to make eye contact.

Well, that was one way to confirm that Cam was exclusively interested in men. They’d shuffled through a veritable sea of half-or-more naked women and Cam had barely blinked, but a wink from a flirtatious man had him tripping over his feet.

“The bathrooms are just down that way if you-”

“I’m okay!” Cam blurted out.

“Want to wash your face.” Arcade finished, raising his eyebrows, and Cam reached a new shade of red. “What did you think I was going to suggest?”

Cam shook his head with a speed that could cause whiplash, but before Arcade could press the issue, a door slammed open and spilled noise all out in the hallway.

“Hey! It’s the Prince!”

A crowd of drunken cheers and the moment was over, saving Cam who immediately bolted towards them, with just one furtive, embarrassed glance to Arcade.

Who simply made a note to follow up on that later and headed towards the party.

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It wasn’t _as_ bad as he thought. The King’s preferred libation was an aromatic blend of whiskey, rum, and something Arcade couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was smoky and heady and best sipped slowly.

Or, if you were Cam, you kicked a full glass back and hit the dancefloor like a badly damaged protectron.

“That boy dances like someone’s given him a hundred volts.” The King drawled and Stella smacked his chest.

“Oh, he’s having _fun_ , meanie.”

They had been late enough to the party that everyone was already a good bit tipsy, leaving the King and Arcade to supervise. Arcade had no idea how the King wasn’t smashed; he’d barely had more than a few sips of the signature drink and needed to take a break.

The private room must have cost a fortune. The seats were cushioned with leather or velvet, the lighting was seductive, and the music was… well, tolerable, but Arcade wasn’t a huge fan of ‘sexy jazz’. There were overhead cages, where dancers could tantalize, but they were all empty for the moment, except for the one Priscilla was fooling around in.

“Oh-oh-oh, look it!”

Obediently, the men turned to see Cam holding Marshall aloft, the smaller man’s arms out like a saint. Then he burst into laughter as Cam dropped him, catching him into a twirl at the last second.

“He is going to rip those stitches.” Arcade remarked, not jealous.

“Ah, he’ll be fine. Marshall’s got a good head.”

Marshall managed to get Cam to release him from the spinning, only to stagger comically before falling on another King that Arcade didn’t recognize. Cam was laughing so hard he’d gone silent, clapping his hands together.

“Cami!”

Everyone turned to see Priscilla leaning out of the cage, grinning madly, and Arcade shook his head. He could guess what she was going to say.

“Catch me!”

“Hold up now, Prissy.” The King called, thankfully before the tragedy was in motion. “Let’s not test Cam’s stitches, y’hear?”

She pouted, visible even from the distance, and then threw a ladder down. Arcade didn’t know it was possible to climb sulkily. Once she was close enough, Cam grabbed her into another rendition of his ‘dance’, and the party continued on merrily.

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There was a slight miscalculation at cake-cutting time. There wasn’t quite enough room for everyone to sit; Arcade had gotten up to refill his punch and Pacer had stolen his seat next to Cam. Priscilla was sitting _on_ Cam, the man hardly minding, and Arcade shuffled awkwardly for a moment, aware that no one had noticed quite yet but not knowing what to do.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten more alcohol, if this had him so baffled.

“Prissy darling, why don’t you come over here? The King’s got more than enough lap for both of you, if Stella don’t mind sharing her throne.”

Priscilla suddenly noticed Arcade and then sighed, dramatically.

“Oh okay, Kingie. But only ‘cause I know that this cutie wants that one.”

Cam got a kiss smashed into his cheek—leaving a bright red print—and then she flounced off to her lover.

Arcade now got to shuffle awkwardly for a different reason as both he and Cam tried to process the solution to the problem.

“D’ya want to sit?”

“Sit down, silly baby. Cami’s a comfy chair.” Stella said, waving her hand. “Queen’s orders.”

“Well you best not disappoint the Queen, Arcade.” The King advised, giving both his girls a squeeze.

Under more scrutiny than he’d like, Arcade approached Cam and then found the better option. He perched on the arm of the couch, leaning into Cam’s shoulder, and both girls rolled their eyes at him.

“Pacer, give that man a tug.” Priscilla ordered and the King chuckled.

“Let ‘em figure it out, girls. Now, the King’s hands are a bit occupied _._ Marshall, get this cake lit for my baby, would’ya?”

Marshall would, hopping up from his chair to do the honors, and Arcade looked out of the corner of his eye to Cam. He was looking up at him, and then, with a noticeable hesitation, the arm he was leaning on moved to wrap around him. It wasn’t anything indecent, just Cam’s arm warm and heavy against his back, Cam’s hand resting on the top of Arcade’s thigh.

Arcade took a long drink from his cup, savoring the alcohol heat, while Cam’s thumb rubbed a small circle.

The birthday song was raucous, especially with Cam shouting it so close, and soon enough everyone had a slice of sweet, dense cake. Jokes and stories bounced around the room, Arcade only half-paying attention. The arm of the couch wasn’t cushioned as much as he’d hoped, and it was getting pretty uncomfortable. Plus, the booze had him a little top heavy and he kept finding himself slouching.

Cam’s arm meant he wasn’t likely to fall off the couch, but it also meant he kept slipping towards the man, instead. And towards Pacer, who shot him dirty looks whenever Cam wasn’t looking.

Idly, he wondered if Cam had inadvertently involved him in some sort of triangle, there. Didn’t Stella—or was it Priscilla?—mention that Pacer had been interested in Cam?

Arcade wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but suddenly he was sprawled across Cam’s lap, staring down at Pacer. Cam quickly had him righted, to just sitting on him, before the man could do more than snarl.

“Sorry sugar! I’ve gone all elbows.” Stella said, falsehood ringing clear.

It took him a few moments to adjust, both mentally and physically. He was across Cam’s lap, facing Pacer, Cam’s arm still strong on his back. Cam’s other hand hovered, uncertain, before settling on his knee.

Without a word, Pacer stood up and strode off towards the stocked bar. Arcade wondered how poisoned he would get if he requested a refill right now.

“Y’okay?” Cam asked and Arcade turned to blink at him. “You fell.”

He nodded and then shifted on Cam’s lap; the girls were right, he was cozy, and seemed unbothered by being furniture. Which was a second reason not to get another glass of the King’s punch, if he was seriously considering staying on Cam when there was space right next to him to sit.

“Cami!” Stella squealed. “It’s beautiful!”

They both turned to see the woman clutching a paper bag and a bit of knotted leather. Arcade blinked and refocused his eyes; it was a necklace, one of the ones Cam liked to make. He remembered Cam frowning at a collection of turquoise a few nights ago, trying to select the best ones.

“There’s bracers too.” He said and she gasped, eagerly digging in the bag.

Priscilla leaned over to help her tie the necklace, Arcade wondering if the King was just used to being squashed, and then Stella was delightedly studying the intricate embossing on the bracers.

Arcade was busy watching Cam’s hand on his knee, thumb stroking a hot path up and down. He wondered if it was subconscious fiddling or just absently enjoying the texture of his pants. He finished his drink on the thought and then looked at his empty cup. What a good use of his reflexes, to not spill it when Stella shoved him.

Two in and Cam was cradling him like a… Well, the fact that he can’t word what was happening was a good indication he should definitely switch to water for the night. Even if the punch was delicious and Cam was so very comfortable to cuddle on like this.

The subtle vibrations through Cam’s chest as he talked about something with the King were kind of nice, actually. His breathing, slow and deep, and his arm giving him the occasional squeeze, also very nice. Arcade could imagine this being their new set up for reading-and-craft times. Though Cam probably needed both hands for his leatherwork. And Arcade was probably in the way.

Maybe he should start reading to Cam again. He’d kind of missed it, actually, and he bet Cam would enjoy Pride and Prejudice. For no real reason, now that he thought about it, just that it was one of his favorite books. 

Was Arcade’s head always this heavy? He could barely hold himself up until he decided that all of him was already on Cam, he might as well rest his head too. Cam wouldn’t mind if he pushed a little more against him, get a better feel for the way his nice, broad chest expanded with each breath. Hear that heart thudding away in there, calm right now because they were out with friends. Or Cam was, Arcade was just here because Cam asked him to be. If Pacer had his way, Arcade was pretty sure he’d be a lot less comfortable.

But that hardly mattered, because Cam shifted him so he was properly tucked into his neck, breathing in the clean but a little sweaty smell of him. It was even better to let Cam hold all of him. Safe. Secure, even.

Arcade woke with a start, forcing his eyes open and trying to bolt up. A hand—Cam’s—touched his chest, settling him back down, the man murmuring something soothing.

He _fell asleep_ during a party. He can’t remember the last time embarrassment hit him this hard but he’s blushing like Cam does, looking around to see who knew. But the room was empty, even the music gone.

“S’just us.” Cam said, soft, and Arcade fell back with a whoosh, relieved. “They went to go play games ‘n’ stuff.”

His hand resettled on Arcade’s knee. Arcade shut his eyes, using the moment to take stock.

His body didn’t feel quite as heavy as before, but his head was still fuzzy, distractible. Or maybe that was just because Cam kept touching him, one-armed hugs or rubbing his cheek against his hair. Arcade couldn’t remember falling asleep or even making the decision to close his eyes. He’d just been so comfortable…

Though, not as much now. Something in Cam’s pocket was digging into his back.

“Sorry I kept you from the party.” He shifted, trying to get whatever-it-was to move, but it was persistent. “Why don’t you go,”

Arcade glanced up to see Cam nearly biting through his lip. He stopped, trying to work out what had Cam reacting that way. He didn’t offer any clues though, just a panicked look in his eye. When Arcade started to move again, Cam’s hand flexed on his knee, stilling the movement.

It took much longer than it should have to put the details together.

The guilt of keeping Cam from his friends disappeared, mostly, replaced by significantly more amusement. And more than little shot of ego-flavored lust too, at the fact that Cam had gotten _excited_ just holding him.

Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure about what to do with this situation or, rather, what he _should_ do. He had enough drink left in his system to quiet any concern about ramifications and he knew Cam was interested; why not see how long he could last with Arcade in his lap?

“Want me to move?”

Probably the easiest way to sort out the right course of actions. He didn’t remember how much Cam had drunk either, but he seemed more sober than Arcade.

A worrying thought, if he cared to contemplate it, but he didn’t, so let Cam decide which way the moment went.

“No.”

He was embarrassed, that much was clear, but the hands holding Arcade were just as sure and tight as they were before. Consent then, for the moment to continue, for maybe a little of playing with his Cam. A few more buttons pressed, the line between them a little more muddied than before.

Priscilla’s kiss still sat bright against Cam’s cheek and Arcade reached up to smudge it away, not liking the mark. But then Cam closed his eyes, tilting into the touch, and his focus shifted. He brushed his thumb over Cam’s lower lip, slow, and his mouth parted, just a little. Desire overran sense in an instant and Arcade slid into that willing, wet mouth.

Cam’s shiver shook Arcade and his tongue flashed over his thumb, welcoming it.

“Good boy.” Arcade murmured while Cam sucked.

He stroked the side of Cam’s cheek—coloring quickly—and his own cock stirred at the sight. Cam’s hand trailed down his knee to his hip, to pull Arcade just a little closer. He allowed it, enjoying the feel of what was definitely Cam’s erection twitching against him.

Arcade dragged his thumb down Cam’s tongue, pulling his mouth open. He stayed still, obedient, while Arcade hummed, pleased at the way Cam didn’t resist him in the slightest. He just made little breathy whines, unable to muffle them, until Arcade gave him two fingers to play with. Then he was perfectly docile, letting Arcade use his mouth as he pleased. Cam’s eyelids fluttered, like he wanted to open them but couldn’t quite focus enough for it.

Like he was already lost to the sensation, like Arcade’s fingers were-

The door flew open and Arcade ripped his hand out of Cam’s mouth, sober in an instant.

“‘Ey, you two up yet? Stella’s whipping us at cards.”

Cam stared at Arcade, mouth open (wanting) and eyes wide. Arcade cleared his throat, suddenly unable to meet Cam’s eyes.

“We’ll be there in a minute.”


	17. After Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Mentions of drugs/chems, mentions of alcohol & hangovers, use of the word 'bitch', reference to a bar fight (no injuries)

Arcade woke to an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed, and with a pounding headache. A door screamed open and a team of drummers marched towards him while he tried to wince, but his body was too sore.

“Nothing like a punch hangover, huh?” The King’s voice, normally velvet, was like claws to his eardrums. “Come on, sit up. Pop one of these and a glass o’ water, you’ll be good as new.”

Normally, Arcade was the sort of sensible person who would never take unknown pills from relative strangers, but right now, he’d sample gasoline if it would take the pain away.

It took three tries to manage to swallow the water and then he looked up towards the blurry man. The grin was audible.

“Glasses?”

The King picked them up off the nightstand and passed them over before setting down onto a chair Arcade hadn’t noticed. He was in a room with several other uninhabited beds, Cam nowhere in sight.

“Our special blend packs a wallop and you hit it hard. How much you remember?”

Arcade rubbed his temple, thinking. Stella’s birthday party… watching Cam dance… falling asleep and then his world shrinking to Cam’s mouth. He did his best to keep that hazy memory off his face, the dawning horror of what he’d nearly done.

“Up until Marshall asked us to play cards.” He answered and then swallowed. “Where’s Cam?”

“Taking Rex for his morning constitutional. Girls had me a bit tuckered out.” A pleased grin and then a stretch. “You’re not missing much then, other than Pacer tryin’ to take your block off and Cam giving that a quick end.”

Arcade blinked and then again, but the oddly pleased man kept sitting in front of him, smiling.

“What?”

“You really don’t remember what you said, huh? It was good, too. Let me see if I can get it right…” The King paused and Arcade willed whatever chem he took to work a little faster. “Well, Pacer was being a real bitch to you, on account of Cam rejecting him, and even though I’d _told_ him not to make a scene-”

“Cam rejected him?” Arcade interrupted.

“Last time he was here, before you came and got ‘im. I don’t know the specifics, but Marshall let me know that it was all amicable-like. For the best, really, they wouldn’t be a good pair. Pacer’s my best friend, but he ain’t listened to me his whole life.”

He was probably talking in a normal speed at a normal volume, but as far as Arcade was concerned, he was shouting high-speed gibberish. Arcade took a couple of sips of water, shifting his hope to be for the chem to just kill him and be done with it, since it sure wasn’t taking the headache away.

“I don’t remember what Pacer said, myself, but I do remember you looking over your cards, cool as _ice_ , and calling him a ‘wannabe pre-war gangster high on his own hair gel’ and that he oughta ‘make like Odysseus and get lost’.”

Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose. That… did sound like something he would say, though he thought he was better at keeping his temper in check than that.

Then again, as the King said, that punch was _strong_. Strong enough he and Cam almost-

“Then Cam hit him?” He asked, interrupting his own thought, and the King wiggled his hand.

“Less of a hit, more of a grab ‘n’ throw thing. Pacer hopped up and told you to get ready for a fight and ‘fore anyone else could do anything, Cam sent him through the table. Cards and chips and drinks went everywhere, I think some lady screamed.”

He had a wide grin on his face, completely inappropriate to the chaos he was describing.

“Should I apologize to you, Stella, or Pacer?” The King considered it, light dancing in his eyes.

“Probably the folks over at Gomorrah. Pacer ain’t liable to want to talk to you anytime soon and Stella _appreciates_ a good manly show like that. And it ain’t a party without a fight, in my own humble opinion. Worst bruise is his ego, anyhow.”

“I doubt I’ll be going back there anytime soon. Not exactly my usual place.”

The King laughed at that.

“Well, after that we all got kicked out, so we took the party back here. Cam beat everyone at darts, lost at poker, and then sulked when you took the darts away after he stuck himself. I started kicking people off to beds while you dealt with the crybaby.”

Then he yawned, mightily.

“Which is where I’m heading back too, now that you’re up. Oh, an’ before you worry yourself to death, I didn’t leave you’n’Cam alone. Much as I like a good drunken fumble myself, I ain’t supervising you two. He slept downstairs with Marshall and the only thing _he_ likes is winning at cards.”

Arcade swallowed, not sure if he should thank the man or apologize, but the King just yawned again.

“Alright, I gotta hit the hay before I pass out here. Thanks for being part of making my girl’s day special.” Arcade was surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Glad you two got each other.”

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It took a while, but eventually Arcade managed to pull himself together enough to head downstairs. He found Cam in the stage room, sitting on the floor with Rex and looking half-asleep. He didn’t protest when Arcade said it was probably time to go back to the Fort, he just yawned and got up, patting the dog’s head.

If he remembered anything that they had done, it didn’t seem to be bothering him. He just shuffled along with Arcade, looking groggy. Their fingers occasionally brushed together as they walked, Cam’s almost hooking around Arcade’s, but not quite, and Arcade did his best not to read into it.

Surely Cam, even with his disregard for ‘proper’ social interactions, knew that you were supposed to talk to someone after you almost had sex. So, the only reason he wasn’t saying anything was because he must not remember it.

Arcade didn’t remember anything after Marshall interrupted them, so he had no idea how much Cam had or had not drunk. He’d only seen him have the first glass, but he hadn’t really been keeping that close of a tab on it.

Cam wasn’t a big drinker, so Arcade wasn’t even sure how much of a tolerance he had, other than that he sometimes drank with Manny out at Novac. It was quite possible that Cam had no idea what they’d done. He could’ve been unaware even when it was _happening_ ; Arcade had asked what he wanted but could he even-

“Why are you both exhibiting multiple signs of a hangover?”

Emily’s voice was icy enough to cut through guilt and then immediately add to it.

“Birthday party.” Cam yawned, not helping either of them, and Emily stared at Arcade.

“You are aware that alcohol is a blood thinner, correct? And that someone who’d experienced significant physical trauma should be avoiding it entirely?”

Arcade dragged a hand over his eyes as he muttered a yes. Time to tally up the number of mistakes he’d made in the last twenty-four hours.

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Emily didn’t need to yell to get attention, which was good since Arcade’s head still hurt. But now his heart and pride did too, with the thorough way she broke him down while checking Cam over.

Apparently, she was being called back West and she had wanted to look at Cam’s stitches today, as she’d be leaving tomorrow morning, hoping to take them out. But now they had to wait a few more days, because Arcade didn’t do his due diligence in ensuring Cam’s safety.

Oh, Cam had tried to argue with her. That didn’t go well at all.

Arcade was a little surprised she let them go into ‘their’ tent. He honestly thought she might say something like how Cam shouldn’t be alone with him, since he was such an unreliable caretaker.

It would’ve been a fair assessment, since he’d not stopped Cam from breaking nearly every rule she’d set him.

“She was _mean_.” Cam remarked, throwing his shirt towards where he left his pack.

“She was right.” Arcade corrected, rubbing his temples. “Though her bedside manner could see some improvement.”

Cam grunted, shucking off his pants to change into clothes that hadn’t been slept in, and Arcade looked away. There was a lovely, noxious feeling in his stomach.

“I’m _fine_. None of them tore! I just didn’t sleep good. Only had one drink.”

“You only had one?” Arcade asked and Cam nodded. “But,”

One drink, at the start of the night? Cam had spent at least an hour dancing-slash-roughhousing (which he also wasn’t supposed to be doing) and while Arcade wasn’t sure how long he’d napped, it had to have been at least twenty or thirty minutes. Even if Cam was a lightweight—and even with the strength of the drink—one glass shouldn’t be enough to have him blackout over the whole evening.

Which meant that his thought that Cam was ‘sober enough’ would have been true, a small relief. And that Cam had thrown Pacer on purpose.

And he _definitely_ remembered what they’d gotten up to, alone in that party room.

Cam was still talking, grouching about the unfair way she had treated Arcade, and he just dropped down into his desk chair to rub his face. Tired, tired brain. He needed a few more hours of sleep, a jug of water, and maybe a meal or two before he was going to be able to process Cam eagerly sucking his fingers and then acting like it was completely normal the next day.

His drunken self’s sense of teasing went way further than he wanted to. Or, well, he did want to do that, he couldn’t pretend not to have thoroughly enjoyed Cam’s mouth and just the memory, hazy as it was, was enough to have some parts of him stirring. But there was a line of appropriate teasing that he liked to stand on and actually sticking things inside of Cam did more than cross it.

Especially since, _again_ , he’d decided to _stop_ flirting with the man.

A bottle of water slid into his line of sight and he took it reflexively, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink.

It was warm, which was gross, but clean and he looked up to see Cam placing two more on the desk, apparently preparing to waterboarding him. 

“You don’t look… uh. Like you feel good.” He said while Arcade drained the bottle. “Should I get Julie?”

Ah yes, please do tell his boss about how he’s hungover now. Of course, he was about to skip work to take a nap, so what would _really_ round out the day of failures would be to wake up fired.

“Just need some more sleep.” He muttered, resisting the urge to crush the bottle.

“I’ll… make sure no one bothers you.” Cam said and Arcade ignored whatever it was flickering in his eyes. “Doc said that it’s important to drink water after parties, so,”

“I’ll drink more when I wake up.”

He forced himself to his feet and then to the cot while Cam did something. By the time he’d gotten settled, Cam was slipping outside, to stand watch or whatever it was he was planning on doing. Like anyone ever came to the research tent who didn’t absolutely have to.

Arcade bundled himself in the blanket, pushing off the mild mental grossness of sleeping in the same clothes twice, and jammed any Cam-related feelings/thoughts deep down where they belonged.

He just needed some sleep.


	18. Chili-Flavored Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Angst, sexual contact, sexualizing medical procedures (removing stitches), mention of Legion's homophobia

Had he already mentioned the hell of routine? It was worse now. People kept giving him these bizarre worried-slashed-pitying looks. And sharing a cot those few times was also enough to completely shift Arcade’s body’s expectations for sleep. A fact only worsened by the guilt that Cam had no idea why, suddenly, Arcade was dedicatedly already ‘asleep’ by their traditional bedtime.

Trying to pretend to be deep asleep when he knew that Cam was looking at him all hopeful before tiptoeing away was _really fucking hard_.

But Arcade wasn’t hiding, he was being tactical. Cam loathed to wake people up and, perceptive as he was, he didn’t seem to notice that Arcade was faking. Which was good, because Arcade absolutely couldn’t fall asleep if his life depended on it. He probably managed three or four hours of sleep each night in the cold, empty cot. But it was a worthwhile sacrifice, because it gave Arcade time to continue processing out The Cam Problem.

Cam didn’t seem that affected, just concerned. It was just three days, after all. He just sent occasional—okay, frequent—looks. But he didn’t try to corner Arcade or anything, just let him keep his distance. In fact, he hadn’t even been around at all today, or at least not wherever Arcade was.

Which was fine too, made it easier on Arcade to not try to pretend he was imagining the longing in Cam’s eyes. Julie probably had him busy again. Or maybe he’d decided to sightsee or go bother the King or anything, really. There was plenty to do in Freeside and most of it far away from Arcade’s research tent.

The work he was supposed to be doing was at a pause currently—the autoclave took as long as it took—so it was time for his own studies. He pulled out a fresh piece of paper to scratch out some stream-of-consciousness notes on the current situation.

  1. Cam had significant feelings for him
  2. Cam was also probably avoiding him right now and while Arcade definitely started it, he still didn’t like it
  3. Cam was pretty close to his ideal man. The only tweaks he could think of was for him to have more of an understanding of the classics, but honestly, he’d _enjoyed_ getting to watch Cam experience The Odyssey for the first time. He really wanted to share more with Cam
  4. …not just books
  5. He was… fond of Cam.
  6. Help



Truly, his skills impressed even him.

What was even the _issue_? Cam was a _good_ man. Arcade _liked_ him, liked spending time with him, liked talking to him, liked _looking_ at him. Given all the evidence, Arcade was pretty damn sure that he would more than like taking Cam to bed, too. Wonderfully reactive and _eager_ for Arcade to take the lead; he couldn’t remember the last time he had someone so immediately and excitedly at his command. Hell, he couldn’t remember the time he last had _someone_.

And yet every time Arcade remembered those stupid bits of Latin—or those _adoring_ eyes—dread clenched down hard. He knew he was slow to trust people but had he really gotten his head so messed up that the _idea_ of Cam having feelings for him made him want to vomit?

Apparently all it took was one past lover’s betrayal to destroy his heart forever, because just thinking about this had him regretting lunch.

Footsteps announced an intruder and Arcade crumpled the paper immediately, schooling his face. It was Julie, looking remarkable unimpressed.

“So, Cam just ran off.” She said, conversationally. “After giving Marcus a chili-bath and threatening three other people. How’s your day going?”

“Cam ran off? Where?” Arcade asked, starting to jump up, but the look she gave him brought him right back down.

“All I got out of them was that they had been ‘just talking’ and Cam appeared out of nowhere, took Marcus’s bowl, and dumped it on his head. Then he left and no one’s seen him since.”

“When?”

Julie crossed her arms, staring down at him, and his stomach twisted. What had happened? Cam didn’t attack people for no reason…

“Twenty minutes ago. Marcus took a shower before realizing that _maybe_ he ought to tell me about it.”

Arcade looked towards his pack and she shifted into his line of sight.

“The Fort is our station for research and healing, not for petty dramas. I let you and Cam stay here because you’re both good workers, but frankly, I think it’s time you both went back into the field.”

“Cam’s stitches-”

“Could’ve come out two days ago. I told him to ask you, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to get involved in whatever _this_ is and I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d be enough of a grown-up to just talk to the man instead of sulking back here.”

Arcade looked down at the crumpled ball in his hand. Talking to Cam before he knew what he was going to say was about as good an idea as Cam leaving New Vegas with a torso full of stitches.

“As your boss, I want you out there. The work you two have done is incredible and I need you to keep it up.” Her voice softened and he looked up. “But as your friend, you guys are _good_ together. Whatever happened, I can’t imagine it’s unforgiveable.”

Arcade clenched his jaw for a moment but—Julie was his friend, wasn’t she? They’d known each other for a while now, her letting him keep his distance but still calling him on his bullshit. He held out the paper ball.

“As my… _friend_.” He muttered, unable to look or the evidence of his deteriorating sanity.

She took it, with a raised eyebrow, and unfolded it to read while he worked on resisting the urge to kick dirt. She snorted.

“Right, well, if you want my advice, then I’ve always had good luck with a bottle of red and some mood music.”

Arcade gave her a look and she rolled her eyes, re-crumpling the ball to toss it in the trash.

“Stop analyzing this and go kiss him. But, as much as I’d like to keep making fun of you, I think you better go find him first.”

She had a point, if exclusively bad advice, so Arcade pushed out of his chair to fetch his pack, pausing on his deliberations on what do to with Cam in favor of where he could be.

“No idea where he would’ve run off to, but I doubt he got far.”

Easy to think that, but Cam was deceptively fast. But he went, and not just to avoid Julie’s continued mockery. Last time Cam ran off, it’d been into a troop of Scorpions. There was far worse outside of New Vegas’s gates.

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The obvious place to check was with the King. For one, he had eyes all over Freeside, and for two, he was functionally Cam’s older brother.

Which was why Arcade was studiously ignoring every King he crossed paths with. If Cam was there, then he was perfectly safe, and Arcade was not. He has the rather sinking feeling that whatever Marcus had done to warrant a bowl of chili to the face had something to do with him and… The King would not be pleased about that.

Not that he was afraid of the man, but people the King were unhappy with _did_ tend to disappear. As tempting as that was, Arcade didn’t really want to be vanished yet. Maybe after he found out what happened with Marcus.

So, he tried everywhere else. The sketchy back alleys, with the few homeless people huddled around trash fires, and then at Mick and Ralph’s. Finally, he was in the Wrangler, waiting for whichever of the Garret twins would appear.

“Can I help you, doctor?” Francine asked, noticing him at the bar.

“I’m looking for my friend, Cam. Has he been through here?”

Her face changed from the mildly friendly, almost pleasant, to calculating in an instant, and Arcade remembered Julie’s distaste for the woman. According to her, she’d screw over everyone short of her brother for a few caps.

“He might’ve. But we don’t turn out our regulars just for the asking, here.”

When had Cam become a _regular_? He could’ve guessed that Cam stayed here back on his first adventures through Freeside, but that didn’t make someone a regular. Since Arcade’s been traveling with him, they’d only returned to New Vegas a handful of times.

But it served as confirmation that he was here, in a sense. If he wasn’t, she would’ve likely just said so.

“I’m not planning on fighting him, I just want to talk.” He said, checking, and she snorted, derisive.

“‘Course you’re not planning on fighting him, you Followers aren’t stupid. But _if_ he were here, he would’ve told us if he was expecting company.”

Cam was definitely here then. Not in the bar, Arcade was the only patron at the moment, or further in at the casino. Which left the rooms. He glanced towards the stairs and she followed his look.

“If you’re thinking about knocking on doors, I’ll let you know that our bouncer is _real_ eager tonight.”

Arcade ground his teeth for a moment and then turned to her. She met his gaze, even and cool, and he reached into his pockets.

“What’s this going to cost me?”

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Two hundred caps lighter, Arcade stood outside Cam’s room. The one he apparently owned, in payment for some job he’d done. She’d also added that Cam had been here for the past few days, only leaving for a couple of hours and otherwise skulking about his room.

Great to know that his kicking Cam out of bed meant he’d immediately moved into a bar. Doing real good things to Arcade’s stomach.

He knocked on the door, unable to put it off any longer, and waited. No response came and Arcade wondered if he hadn’t been swindled.

He tried the handle, but it was locked. With no other option, he knocked again, louder.

“No thank you!”

Cam’s voice, shouted, and Arcade breathed a sigh of relief. And then irritation.

“It’s me!” Silence and then, tapping his foot impatiently, he added. “Arcade.”

Footsteps approached the door, then the lock clicked. Cam opened the door slowly, squinting through it.

The first thing Arcade noticed was the dark circles under his eyes and the red-rims around them. His expression was guarded, his hand tight on the doorknob. He hadn’t opened it fully, just enough to peek through to Arcade, his body somewhat hidden behind the door.

“Can I come in?” Arcade asked and Cam’s eyes flickered.

But he stepped back, finally, allowing Arcade in. The door was shut behind him, Cam turning away.

Arcade looked around the room, relieved to see it wasn’t trashed or full of empty bottles. Not that Cam really… did that. He only drank if other people were, but finding him in a bar had Arcade worried. It was just a standard rented room, nothing particularly special about it. Without anything better to look at, he turned to Cam.

He was shirtless, just wearing thin, cloth shorts, the kind he liked to sleep in. He was tense, too, arms crossed before he walked over to the bed and sat down.

“Julie sent you.” He muttered, looking down at his feet, and Arcade walked over.

He had planned on joining Cam on the bed, but the bedside table caught his attention. There was a tray on it, with medical supplies, and a small hand-mirror. He frowned, turning back to Cam, who just looked away.

“You were going to take out your own stitches.”

It wasn’t a question but Cam nodded anyways. Arcade followed his gaze to the corner of the room, where his backpack sat. Fully packed, his shotgun and sledgehammer propped against the wall. 

“And leave.”

Cam didn’t respond, just stared down at his feet. Arcade pushed away the sinking feeling, the sensation that his stomach was in the floor, to look over the tray again. Everything he needed was there.

“Lie back.”

Cam glanced at him, questioning, but ultimately obeyed. He scooted down the bed to lie down properly and Arcade adjusted the lamp. This was not the appropriate place for this, but it would be better than Cam trying it on his own.

Arcade didn’t mention Cam’s shiver when he touched him. Just the tips of his fingers, inspecting the sutures. He turned to dampen a bit of cloth with the antiseptic.

He started washing the first wound, one of the shallower ones, hyperaware of the way Cam stared at him.

“Where were you planning on going?”

He doesn’t ask if he would have been told first; he knew the answer to that already. Cam swallowed, eyes falling to Arcade’s hand on his chest.

“Dunno yet. Fight bad guys, probably.”

Arcade nodded, inwardly relieved he didn’t say anything stupid like ‘to go kill Caesar’.

“Boone wanted to take Cottonwood Cove.”

His relief was too soon, evidentially, and if he scrubbed a little harder than strictly necessary, Cam didn’t mention anything.

“That would be a suicide run.”

Cam nodded, but didn’t clarify his position on the matter, and Arcade determined should he be in a position to prevent it, Cam would not be left alone with that sniper anymore.

He started picking out the sutures, going slower than he normally would. Julie had been right, these needed to come out days ago. The skin was overgrown, reclaiming the stitches, and it would hurt if he wasn’t careful.

The potential analogy was unwanted and would go unmentioned.

“What did Marcus say?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cam swallow. His hands fisted the sheets before smoothing them.

“Nothing nice.”

“I gathered that, from you dumping a pot of chili on him.”

“Just his bowl.”

There wasn’t any guilt in his voice. The conversation, if it could be called that, lapsed while Arcade worked. Three more sutures to remove—thirty-nine more after that—and the oddest sensation of trying to have this conversation with a time limit.

But Cam wouldn’t (probably) defy his unspoken wishes, so Arcade would stop after this one, a good faith offering that he was going to take care of Cam. The he said he would, when he first agreed to travel together.

When Arcade traced a finger up the new pink skin, ostensibly to double check it. Cam’s eyes closed. They reopened when Arcade set his tools aside and watched, warily, as Arcade perched on the edge of the bed.

But Cam shuffled over a bit, allowing him enough space to sit. Even if it was only out of inborn politeness, it reassured Arcade.

“I’ve been avoiding you.”

It wasn’t a secret, even if he’d stupidly hoped that Cam would somehow not notice, but it was still hard to say. Cam looked down at it his knees.

“After the party.”

Arcade nodded, watching the way Cam’s hands folded on one another only to pull apart and fit a different way. Restless, until they stopped.

“I’m sorry.”

He stiffened, the words taken out of his mouth, and found Cam sniffling, eyes downward.

“For _what_?” Arcade asked, completely baffled.

“Cause I… The party, I.” Cam started to curl up, but Arcade pushed his knee back down. “It’s wasn’t right but I couldn’t… stop.”

“I hardly gave you the opportunity.”

Cam shook his head, chewing on words, and Arcade decided to give him a few minutes to sort out what he was trying to say. And, also, to recover from the fact that Cam thought _he’d_ done something wrong.

“I know that you said no one cared anymore… That it was just _them_ who hated it…”

Slow, more than a little fear in his voice, and Arcade didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were. He was going to need to ask what the hell Cam was on about, if he didn’t hurry up and spit it out.

“But I’m… g-… I like-”

Arcade didn’t know if he was going to laugh or scream because it seemed an awful lot like Cam was choking on confessing that he was _gay_.

“Cam. Are you trying to tell me that you’re gay?”

Please let it not be, if only because if Cam had somehow misunderstood him as being _homophobic_ , he was going to need a drink.

But he nodded, eyes flicking too briefly towards Arcade, who rubbed his face. The air was tense, as Cam visibly readied himself and Arcade tried to figure out why the hell Cam thought he’d be mad about _that_.

Hadn’t he been the one to explain the word to Cam? Along with Manny, sure, but still?

“How long have we been together?”

“One hundred fifty-two days.”

Arcade paused, digesting the fact that Cam knew _off the top of his head_ exactly how long they were traveling together. He sometimes forgot where they were going en route, but he knew _that_.

“I keep track.” Cam added, uncertain and gesturing to his pip-boy. “Today’s the two hundred and thirty-fifth since Doc saved me.”

Keeping a log was a more than reasonable idea for someone with memory issues and Cam did fiddle with the thing every night. But Arcade shook it off; the question was supposed to be rhetorical.

“All that time, and you hadn’t noticed that _I’m_ gay too?”

Cam looked like he’d declared himself a deathclaw, some strange mix of shock and oddly, trepidation on his face.

“…No.”

A drink would be wonderful, but Cam only had the bottle of antiseptic, and he’s not that desperate.

“What on earth gave you the idea that I would be anything other than accepting?”

He tried to sound soothing, but he’s just too baffled for it. Cam chewed his bottom lip.

“You just… every time I was looking at someone, or if they were looking at me… You go all tense. And you still don’t like Alex or Jimmy.”

Great, Cam had misidentified jealousy as homophobia, and Arcade can’t really blame him for that one. He rubbed his face, trying to figure out an explanation that made him sound like less of an ass.

“I… felt that they were taking advantage of you. Nothing to do with being gay. And again, _I’m_ gay.” He took a deep breath and, in the hopes of a little levity, added: “I’ve also known you were interested in men since we met.”

“Wha- how?”

“I saw how you looked at me. It was,” Flagrant? Shameless? Inappropriate in the workplace? “Distinct. Added in with the way you talk to half the men we meet, it was a little obvious. Especially after that cowboy.”

Arcade cracked a smile at Cam’s flush, obviously remembering the incident. Some of the tension was leaving Cam, reassured that Arcade wasn’t planning on going on some sort of homophobic tirade.

The man could spot a bark scorpion buried in sand at a hundred paces, but couldn’t catch flirting with a mitt. Even when some of Arcade’s flirting was borderline foreplay.

“You knew all along?” Arcade nodded and Cam hesitated, wetting his lips. “Then… why are you mad at me?”

His ease disappeared with the question and he sighed.

“To clarify, I was never mad, at you or otherwise. What happened at the party was,”

He grabbed at words, trying to find the simplest ones to ensure no further miscommunications, while also noticing Cam’s increasing panic.

“I was drunk and shouldn’t have, because we needed to talk about it first. _Not_ because you tricked me or took advantage or anything like that.”

Cam frowned, studying his face.

“Talk about what?”

“The fact that we… have feelings for each other.”

An irrational fear that he—and half the Mojave—misread the situation and actually this was all one-sided struck him, but Cam just blinked, real slow.

“…You don’t.” Arcade raised an eyebrow and Cam pressed his lips together, oddly resolute. “Not for me.”

It wasn’t a rejection of his feelings, it was a rejection that he _had_ them, but it stung all the same. Possibly worse, since he’d only recently learned about them himself.

“And you know this how?”

“You never said anything.”

“Am I not saying something right now?”

Cam looked away, frowning at the wall, and Arcade looked down at his chest again. Still five more sets of sutures to remove and he may as well get back to it. If only to keep Cam from curling up into a ball or trying to bolt away.

He could use something to do with his hands, too. An excuse to not look at Cam’s face for this part would be appreciated. So he got off the bed and resettled at Cam’s side, gathering his tools once more.

“While it took until _Jimmy_ of all people to tell me about your crush, I can assure you, I’ve never been _un_ interested in you.”

Cam deserved the honesty that Arcade had been denying them both, even if it made his skin crawl. He wasn’t looking at him, but he was listening, and that was probably for the best.

Arcade set to washing the next wound, finding some peace in the familiar actions. He’d removed thousands of stitches at this point; he could do this in his sleep.

“I’ve not had a relationship like this before. Not that I haven’t had good men in my life, because I have, but even then, it was never as… affectionate. You’ve hugged me more in the past four months than I’ve had in several years.”

“I hug everyone.” Cam muttered.

“Which is my excuse for not noticing your feelings. But don’t distract me, it’s taken three days for me to sort out what I need to say.”

Actually, he’d spent the whole time moping and was currently making this up as he goes, but Cam didn’t need to know that.

“There are things in my past that I don’t talk about and you’ve never pressed for details, which I appreciate. You take my input seriously, you shift plans when I need you to, and I enjoy spending time with you.”

“That’s what friends _are_.”

A glance quieted this new interruption, Cam suitably chastised, and he continued.

“The only relationship I can think of that comes close to the _intimacy_ of ours is Daisy and it’s hardly an apt comparison.”

Arcade could sense the question on Cam’s tongue, but he doesn’t ask, even with the pause.

“Your friendship is more important to me than just the fact that I’d like to have sex with you.”

Cam sat up, quickly enough that Arcade very nearly stabbed him with the scissors, but he bit back the reproach, just setting them aside for the moment. There was too much in those brown eyes, more emotion than he could identify let alone parse out, but the predominant war was between suspicion and hope.

“What are you saying?” Fingers curled around Arcade’s wrist. “‘Cause I don’t… You don’t _like_ me. Not the way I do.”

This was no longer misunderstanding, this was blatant refusal, and Arcade shook off his hand to take his face, cupping either cheek to hold him steady. Cam’s breath hitched when Arcade came close, not quite touching since he didn’t want to stab anyone with his glasses. 

“Yes. I do.”

He spoke slowly, the words heavy in his mouth but light in his heart, if one could forgive the terrible poetry. Cam’s hand, just one, touched his chest before grabbing a fistful of shirt, wrinkling the fabric.

When he wet his lips, he very nearly licked Arcade’s too. The air was electric, Arcade had never seen Cam’s eyes this focused, and he was sure that his were sharing far more details than he usually preferred. But if there was ever a moment for Cam’s perception, this was it; let the man see the truth—confusing and muddled—that Arcade couldn’t quite verbalize yet.

A light hand touched the back of his neck and then there was barely air between them. Cam’s eyes softened, the suspicion replaced with _want_.

Arcade wasn’t sure which of them moved, or maybe it was both, but then they were kissing. Soft, tentative, and he knew that Cam was one wrong move from flinging himself away. So, he slid a hand to the nape of Cam’s neck, rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle.

Which had the opposite effect off making Cam shiver and then temptation had him deepening the kiss, taking advantage of the slight opening. He pushed forward, just a little, and Cam fell back immediately, tugging all the while. But Arcade let him go, following just enough to prevent Cam from yanking his shirt.

Cam’s eyes opened when the expected contact doesn’t come, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, and Arcade smiled down at him, even as he worked at loosening the man’s hand from his clothes.

“‘Cade?” Just his name, a question.

Arcade lifted Cam’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the slightly sweaty palm, and he shifted on the bed.

“I’m not done with your stitches yet.” Arcade reminded, enjoying the fact that just a kiss had the man wanting.

“They can wait?”

Not a statement, not with the lilt at the end, but he’s not going to get his way. A fact he recognized, frustration obvious as Arcade turned back to his tools, letting the hand return to its owner. Arcade did take the opportunity to rid himself of the lab coat first. It tended to get trapped between bodies and besides, he didn’t need it right now.

If Arcade had to rank which medical procedures had the most potential for sensuality, removing stitches would be pretty high on the list. Minimal pain, nearly no risk for injury, and an excellent excuse for running his hands wherever he damn well pleased.

And no, prostate exams did not place anywhere on that list. Ha ha.

Cam certainly came around to his thought quickly though; he’d hardly done more than brush his knuckles against his side and gotten a sharp intake of breath. He started teasing out sutures, taking his time and periodically stroking the firm muscle of Cam’s abdomen. If he didn’t have proof of the opposite, he would’ve thought the man a virgin for how _reactive_ he was to the simplest of touches. As enjoyable as the anticipatory wiggling was, and the more-than-occasional shiver, the non-foreplay aspect of this was becoming difficult.

“Stay still.”

Cam immediately froze at the murmur, or perhaps the touch to his sternum, or maybe because of the look Arcade gave him. Then he nodded, quick and eager, agreeing if Arcade would continue.

Which he did, of course, just as invested in feeling Cam up and getting this last obstacle out of the way. Nothing like a popped stitch to ruin the mood and Arcade would be rather cross to have to stop for something so preventable.

It was faster now, with Cam straining everything to keep to his order even with Arcade keeping up the teasing brushes all over his torso, and soon it was time for the other side.

Arcade accepted some back pain later to just loom over Cam for the last twenty. Simple cloth shorts weren’t up to the task of preserving modesty for anyone, let alone someone as proportionately endowed as Cam. The tent he’d pitched Arcade had a water feature—a dark wet spot right in the front—and twitched whenever Arcade’s fingers ghosted over a sensitive spot.

A hand touched his side and he turned to look at Cam, not quite a reproach but intending to chastise, and found him looking so very needy, eyes practically molten.

“Please?”

He _had_ been doing so well, Arcade reasoned, and that patience deserved a little reward. Cam sighed into his mouth, an arm hooked around him in an instant. He didn’t try to pull Arcade anywhere this time, just returned the kiss with an eagerness that nearly caught him off-guard. And got his glasses jammed into his eyes.

When he pulled away, Cam tried to follow, making him smile.

“Just a little longer.” He promised.

It took Cam a minute—staring at Arcade’s mouth—but he nodded and Arcade opted to shift their positions. He climbed onto Cam, straddling his waist up high enough to not actually touch him where he was so clearly wanted, and the man took a shaky breath. Arcade watched him, careful of the amount of his weight he’s putting on him, and Cam rested his hands on Arcade’s thighs.

He resumed his work, removing these last dozen sutures, while Cam tried to stay still beneath him despite Arcade intentionally making that difficult.

Soon he’s finished and just tickling a finger down the longest scar. It was a fresh-skin-pink and cut from the mid-point on Cam’s side almost to his bellybutton. Arcade had needed to scoot back along Cam’s body to get the last few sutures and the slide over his erection had Cam biting his knuckle, eyes screwed tight.

But now Arcade was done. He set aside his tools to look down at his patient. Cam wet his lips, both hands coming up to take Arcade’s waist and give him a little squeeze.

“How are you feeling?”

A serious question, it being important to check in, and Cam’s thumbs slip under his shirt, to rub against bare skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

Not an answer, technically, but Arcade smiled anyways. He took off his glasses, folded them, and reached over Cam to place them on the bedside table. Cam waited, hands quick to replace themselves at his waist once he returned.

Arcade had barely started to lean in before Cam was reaching up, his hands sliding up Arcade’s back. They didn’t pull, just stroked, and it was a tender, sweet kiss. The implied consent apparently quieted any of Cam’s remaining reservations and he was all over Arcade; there was a hand in his hair and then down his backside, curving along his thigh. Occasionally brave fingers would brush under his shirt, to tease along his waistband.

Kissing Cam was a full-bodied experience, a rush he hadn’t really expected, but he gave as good as he got and he could sense no complaints from Cam on the matter.

Arcade let himself be pulled to press fully against Cam, between his spread legs and up as close as he could be. Cam had one hand on the nape of his neck and the other under his shirt and feeling along the muscles of his back.

There were still several layers of cloth between them, but the feeling of Cam’s hardness pressed against his own was too tempting to resist grinding against. Even dulled, it was friction and heat and Cam panting into his mouth, hands a little firmer.

He pulled away from Cam, not going far, and the man’s eyes opened. Soft on his, like they always were, but filled with desire. They fluttered shut when he rocked his hips again, enjoying the ripples of pleasure rolling over Cam’s face just as much as the sensation itself.

The hands holding him so tight were nice too and so was the soft murmur of his name, before Cam reached up to take another kiss, sweet and lingering.

Arcade could’ve guessed that Cam would be affectionate in bed, but he hadn’t anticipated how different—yet definitely still good—it would be to the rushed, heated encounters he’d had in the past. Not that this lacked fire, there was still that familiar lust burning in his belly and it certainly wasn’t a knife in Cam’s shorts.

But it was _tender_ , pleasure taken and given without urgency, just Cam’s hands under his shirt because he hadn’t asked to take it off, but wanted so badly to touch him, always, and Cam’s legs wrapped around him, and Cam’s lips trailing along his throat.

Arcade was enjoying the feeling—the drag of stubble against his skin, a hint of tongue and then a brush of lips—so much that he’d barely caught the whisper.

“…the sun-warmed earth is longed for by the swimmer,”

Arcade would know that passage anywhere, had read and re-read it himself. Cam had _loved_ that part too, loved the reunion of husband and wife. He’d wept, silently tucking his face in the crook of Arcade’s neck not unlike he was now, tears of happiness and sorrow that they had lost so much time together but finally, they could be one. Cam was quoting The Odyssey to Arcade, breath warm against his skin, in such a terrifyingly _sweet_ voice that Arcade felt like he’d been stuck in the kidney.

 _Ut amantes, servi_ : as lovers, slaves, and Cam wanted to be _his_.

He kept going—how did he even know the words after just one recitation—but Arcade can’t think on that right now when every murmur twisted the knife. There was no hiding the feeling behind Cam’s words, the emotion guiding his hands to caress every bit of Arcade that he could reach.

 _Ubi amor, ibi dolor_ : in love, pain, and this certainly hurt.

“…in joy, for knowing the abyss behind,”

 _This wasn’t sex_ , his brain screamed in him, even as other parts disagreed, but this was more, this was far too intimate, this Cam trying—succeeding—to make _lov-_

Lips just on the edge of his jawline now, creeping ever closer, until Cam was kissing him, his head cradled so softly.

But only for a moment before pulling away, concern twisting his brow.

Arcade couldn’t hide his panic quick enough and Cam drew in a sharp breath. At once, the hands left him, to fist the blankets, and he was cold for their absence.

They just looked at each other. Arcade watched hurt blossom in Cam’s eyes, acceptance coming swiftly after, and knew that his every thought was broadcasted on his face like he was shouting. Cam’s hand hovered briefly next to his cheek before he smiled, bittersweet.

“It’s okay.”

His hands guided him, damningly gentle, off of Cam, to sit on the bed. Emotion stuck in Arcade’s throat—an apology, as inane as it would sound, desperate to escape. Cam sat up, the bed groaning, and walked into the bathroom.

The door shut behind and Arcade could hear water running. He drew his knees to his chest and rest his forehead against them, cursing… everything.

His father, for joining the Enclave, and dying for it. His mother for the same and for not running immediately, to save them both. The NCR for its uncompromising death sentences and the Remnants for scattering. The Wasteland for its general terribleness

Himself, for having the stupid daydream of Cam when he clearly wasn’t capable of the simple _honesty_ required for such a relationship.


	19. 198 to Infinity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: None
> 
> Author's Note: I'll be posting chapter 20 today too, it just needs a little more kicking into shape c:

The door reopened and he looked up reflexively, but with his glasses off, all he could see was Cam walking across the room to his pack. He rustled around and Arcade, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out for his glasses.

Cam was getting dressed. Arcade watched, not bothering to hide his face since Cam wasn’t looking. Regular clothes, so he probably wasn’t planning on leaving Freeside. He still hadn’t found decent enough leather to make a new shirt and jacket, but his armored pants had survived the deathclaw attack.

“I’m sorry.” Arcade finally managed to say.

“Don’t be.” He replied, teetering wildly on one leg while he tried to pull on a sock.

There wasn’t anything in his voice, just a simple response. He straightened once he got it, one sock on and one foot bare, to look at Arcade. There wasn’t any anger on his face, only an accepted sadness. Cam smiled at him, not even close to reaching his eyes, and Arcade would have rathered the anger.

“Are you… leaving?”

Damn him, but there was a _wobble_ to his voice, even with him trying to control it, and confusion flickered across Cam. He had started to repeat his almost-fall-getting-dressed sock routine but stood up instead, to study Arcade. He closed his eyes for a moment, to take a deep breath.

Then he walked back to the bed to climb on and kneel, directly in front of Arcade. Arcade didn’t think he’d ever seen Cam take a moment to resolve himself before. He’d always just flung into whatever action he’d come up with, damn the consequences, but now here he was, almost deliberating.

Cam cupped his cheek in one hand and drew him in close, to rest their foreheads together. His eyes remained open, honest and hopeful, and Arcade couldn’t look away, even if it felt like staring into the sun.

“I love you.” He said, so sure of it, and Arcade swallowed back lead. “I… Everything is possible with you. You’re smart and _good_ and I…” His lips quirked, even as a stray tear slipped down his face. “I could spend forever listening to you.”

“You don’t know me.” Arcade pointed out, unable to help it, and Cam’s thumb swiped his cheek. “Where I’m from or any of my history.”

He’d asked, of course, but had backed down, apologizing, when Arcade deflected. Then he just patted him on the shoulder, saying that he was ‘good’ and that he was glad they were friends.

“Your past doesn’t define who you are today.” Cam was in a quoting mood today and for someone with memory problems, he was doing a great job of it. “You don’t like talking about it. I love you.”

Arcade wasn’t sure which was scarier: what Cam was saying or the fact that he kind of, a little, actually believed him when he said it. Or maybe the relentless way he repeated it, like ocean waves trying to drag him under.

Cam’s eyes closed and he took another slow breath, his hand sliding to the back of Arcade’s neck.

“It’s okay you don’t. I knew.” His breath was shaky, but voice stayed steady, even with the tears. “I still love you.”

Then his eyes reopened. One last smile, before he let go.

Arcade didn’t even make the decision to catch him, to bring him right back to where he was with a grip on the nape of his neck that was probably too tight.

“How long?” He demanded and Cam didn’t even blink.

“One hundred ninety-eight days.”

Longer than they’d been traveling together. Much longer. Arcade shoved the thought away, to mirror Cam’s hand a moment ago, to wipe away the tears that Cam wasn’t mentioning.

“Wait for me.” He wet his lips, heart pounding in his heart at the notion that made him both nauseous and elated. “I… want this, but,”

“Not yet.” Cam finished when he floundered, way but wanting so badly, even though Arcade had just dashed his hopes not ten minutes ago. 

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready. _If_.” He admitted, feeling oddly small, and Cam smiled.

This time, it was a real one, with _feelings_ shining out like he’d swallowed a flashlight.

“For you? Forever.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The rest of that night was quiet. Eventually, they disentangled, and Cam’s stomach growled, which was a desperately needed tension breaker. They didn’t go far for dinner, just down to the bar and then straight back to their room, to eat on the bed like they had so many times before. Just not _this_ bed, not that that mattered. It took a few minutes, but the conversation picked up, Cam asking after his research and Arcade surprised himself by actually knowing what the hell he’d been doing the past few days.

Arcade took a shower, enjoying the privacy of a proper bathroom instead of the Follower’s ‘here’s a semi-opaque curtain separating you from a half-dozen other showers’ method. When he returned, hair freshly brushed and feeling lighter than he had in weeks, it was to a far less awkward bed encounter than he feared.

Cam looked at him as he climbed in, the question obvious, and he nodded. He was spared any need for movement; Cam pulled him all the way in and curled around his back, face buried in his wet hair.

He knew that truly blonde hair—especially as pale as his—was something of a rarity in the Mojave, but Cam’s mild obsession was a little odd. But it was, in a strange way, comforting. Probably just the familiarity.

They were both exhausted; Arcade had seen the nightmares shadowing Cam’s eyes from the moment he opened the door and while his own sleep had been dreamless, relaxation had been elusive. Cam was snoring inside of three minutes.

He’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have Cam spooning him like this, in a bed that he wasn’t half-worried would collapse. One arm cushioned his head while the other held him tight around his middle and warmth had him on all sides. Particularly inside, curling in his core, the quiet sense that all was right with the world.

Now that he was over the panic, with Cam’s comforting weight against his back, there was a bizarre giddiness in his chest. Given enough liquor, Arcade _might_ admit that he had, occasionally, daydreamed about the kind of passionate, heroic love featured in stories, the kind that moved mountains and defied cruel gods. It was _possible_ that he’d read some romance novels and that he _could_ have enjoyed a few fantasies about being swept off his feet by a dashing knight who’d slay dragons and battle armies just for the chance of his attention. 

Swap dragons for deathclaws and that kind of was Cam, now that he thought of it. Of course, he’d kill Legion just for them having more than deserved it, but Arcade didn’t actually want a genocide.

And what god could be more cruel than to have taken Cam’s memory for the sin of trying to build a life after Legion?

Probably the same one that set a target on Arcade’s head for having been born to the wrong couple, but wasn’t that the way of those star-crossed lovers? Doomed to fall for one another, only for everything in their world to tear them apart.

Which, he should try and get a hold of a copy of Romeo and Juliet; Cam would love it. Or die of dehydration weeping for the tragedy… Maybe A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream would be better.

Or both, since he had _time_. Forever, Cam had promised, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to contain the smile, even if it made him a little anxious, too. Or a lot. Actually, he should stop thinking about it.

…Maybe nothing had to change, maybe everything would be exactly as it was. Good, comfortable, familiar, just like the past five months. According to Cam, he’d felt this way for the entirety of their traveling together. Longer, even, and Arcade quickly shut down the idea of doing that math.

He didn’t want to know how much longer. What was important was that nothing really was different, other than that he knew now, and maybe that would be okay, maybe they could settle right back into their usual routine.

Cam mumbled and he stilled, hoping not to wake him. He was jostled, Cam snuffling a little closer, and then he settled. Arcade should sleep too; they would be leaving tomorrow morning, after he stopped by the Fort for the rest of his stuff and Cam said goodbye to The King.

On their way to Novac, first, Cam agreeing before he’d even finished the request, and then the rest of the desert. They’d figure it out on the road, like they always did. Though, Cam probably would want to get back to Goodsprings, to catch up with Doc Mitchell and spend time with everyone.

Defiance done Cam’s way: to rebuild, to be the shelter he wanted in the world, to find a family anyways and protect it with everything he had.

Maybe it was time for Arcade to do the same.

He shut his eyes, letting himself, for just a few minutes, think about that Westside fantasy again. Cam would be happier in Goodsprings and it was getting big enough to warrant two doctors, especially since Doc was liable to want to retire eventually. The town would keep on growing, and maybe even soon, with the way he’d seen Chet and Martha looking at each other. Maybe someday Cam would get to try out building a cradle and wouldn’t that have the man bawling happy tears?

Their house would need more work, to live in full-time. It was clean, just a little bare, since they were in it so rarely, and most of the larger appliances didn’t actually work. But with a little lov- _effort_ , they could have that same proper kitchen that he’d thought of and a bathtub that didn’t leak and some better lighting in the sitting area, so they could read together. And a few more bookshelves, of course, for the library to rival Anderson’s.

No, it was a fantasy, he could dream bigger: a library _superior_ to Anderson’s.

Cam sometimes joked about trying to raise geckos and maybe he could, if he built a sturdy enough pen for them. Arcade was sure Sunny could help him catch a few without hurting them and maybe someday Cam would be able to love on a gecko without bloodloss. Supplies needed to run between the town and Primm, and sometimes further down to the Mojave Outpost. Cam could do that whenever he got road-antsy.

He wouldn’t be gone too long, that way, and Arcade could always be home waiting for him. Or go with him too, sometimes, if he ever got to the point of needing a reminder of why he liked plumbing and real beds so much.

Cam snored and Arcade found himself smiling and didn’t care. Desert wanderers didn’t retire, he knew, but with Cam holding him like this, it was a nice thought.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

That morning, strangely, was just like any other morning for them. Arcade woke up in Cam’s arms, they had a quick breakfast, and then they separated to run errands. A few Followers stepped into Arcade’s research tent to carefully ask after Cam and two even mumbled apologies. He still didn’t know exactly what was said, despite asking, but he’d caught enough whispers to guess that it was unkind suppositions about what caused he and Cam to ‘break up’. He would have to content himself with it, given the tightlipped look he’d gotten from Cam when he’d asked last night.

Julie had been more than relieved to hear that everything was settled. Arcade hadn’t wanted to reveal any more than that, but found himself rather inadvertently sharing that they were considering starting a romantic relationship.

Thankfully, he caught himself before adding anything else, like how Cam was already in love with him or how he’d nearly had a heart attack because of it. She knew that he was omitting details, but she just clapped a hand on his shoulder, saying that she was glad they worked everything out. And agreed that it was probably a bad idea to rush into things, since Arcade was being a ‘massive dork’ about the whole ordeal.

A statement he resented, but couldn’t entirely refute, much to her amusement. And now they were out on the road again. A hand brushed his while Cam looked off at the horizon, a telltale tinge to his cheeks. Arcade took the offer and couldn’t help the smile when Cam immediately entwined their fingers, always seeking to be that little bit closer.

“Ready?”


	20. Watching and Waiting and Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: sexual overtures, implied wet dream

Days passed and then weeks, just as they had before, except now Arcade had to wonder if maybe he really did need to get his prescription checked. Cam really did look at him with ‘hungry, wanting eyes’, especially whenever they stopped in at a settlement or somewhere safe to be having those kinds of thoughts. It never went anywhere, Cam was almost _too_ respectful of his request for more time. The most sexual their touching got was the occasional erection while they were sleeping and that could hardly be counted, even if waking up to _that_ rubbing against him made Arcade wonder if sex was really such a bad idea.

But then there was also the constant anticipation of his needs and wants. If he made even the slightest motion towards something at a caravan, Cam would ask how much it was; once Arcade had barely finished reading the title of a book—a chemistry textbook—to find Cam already handing over a fistful of caps. All it took was Arcade making any small sign of displeasure to have Cam checking in. That’s not to say that he cow-tailed to everything Arcade suggested; their discussion about how to handle Westside’s true secret to success nearly became a full-out argument.

Part of it was, of course, Arcade’s bitterness that there really _were_ hidden bodies, or at least body. He should’ve expected that there’d be a cost to how smoothly the town ran, but how unnecessary the death was stung.

But still, once they’d taken a moment to calm down, Cam had listened to his concerns and then shared his own, and they’d come to the solution _together_. It wasn’t precisely fair to the Scorpions but, well, it was hard to feel bad for raiders. Of the options, definitively the best choice for everyone involved, including Arcade’s conscience.

Daisy was happy to see them together and they did stop by more frequently, every other week, give or take. They had something like a cycle, traveling in a large almost-circle around New Vegas. Arcade had put a firm foot down on ever taking the ‘shortcut’ through Quarry Junction again though, refusing Cam’s point that he’d made that hike through multiple times without incident. Arcade had thought it might devolve into something more, with the deep frown on Cam’s face, but then he’d just sighed.

He'd muttered that ‘someone’ would have to do ‘something’ about it, but talking Cam down from trying to clear out a deathclaw nest on his own was a battle for another day. Hopefully one far in the future.

Arcade ran his fingers over the spines of his books. Just a day past New Vegas’s walls, Cam had quietly passed him a cloth bundle while they relaxed after dinner. It was a new lab-coat, freshly white, and it was wrapped around a small stack of books. Two novels— “A Tale of Two Cities” and “A Town Like Alice” —and two nonfictions, “Thinking, Fast and Slow” and “Flora of the Northern Mojave Desert”. The novels were pretty common, not that he’d read the second yet, but those last two? He _still_ hadn’t gotten Cam to confess to his source and not for lack of trying.

Turned out, Cam _could_ keep a secret, if it meant surprising Arcade with some of the best gifts he’d ever received. Not that he didn’t appreciate the annual birthday present from Daisy, as much as he told her to stop each year, he did have to admit it would be depressing if she actually did. But those were always either practical things like a better laser pistol or meant as a joke, like male hula dancer bobblehead she’d found somewhere and he’d immediately buried in his belongings.

Initially, because of embarrassment, but now because he knew that if Cam found it, it would wind up somewhere very prominent in their home. It was exactly the kind of tacky knickknack that he’d love.

Currently, Cam was still trying to dismantle that robo-brain they’d somewhat literally stumbled upon. Luckily for their lives, he had a mean swing with his sledgehammer. Unluckily for their wallets, that dented the hell out of its chassis and now he was struggling to get to any of its expensive innards.

Doubly unfortunate for Cam, since he was hoping to find the last few pieces to fix that eye-bot the Nash’s had, back in Primm. Privately, Arcade hoped it didn’t work, but he didn’t feel quite right in expressing this particular opinion. Cam wanted a pet so badly and with his mild fear of dogs, a robot would be a good choice. Not that they could really express that much _affection_ , but Arcade suspected that Cam could love a rock into being a good pet.

Maybe they could find a nice protectron or Mr. Gutsy somewhere.

A victorious _hah!_ announced Cam’s incoming success. Arcade looked up to watch those lovely back and shoulders muscles ripple with strength, prying the thick metal apart despite its protesting screech. He took a sip from his canteen as Cam bent over, to bury himself in the internal workings of the machine.

Man might not know how a computer worked, but he had a decent head for unwiring things. Whatever he’d done in the past, he was well-versed in at least the demolition side of circuitry, so Arcade felt comfortable letting him tackle this project on his own. Examining the man at his leisure was a delightful side-benefit he hadn’t anticipated.

He'd planned on reading, one of the nonfictions since Cam wasn’t going to be able to pay attention to being read to right now, but this was just as _stimulating_ a pastime as any. It wasn’t often that he got to stare so openly without anyone noticing; Cam would catch him if his eyes lingered a second too long and he wasn’t distracted.

But now his eyes could enjoy every inch of Cam and there were a _lot_ of inches. Cam had stripped off his upper armor, despite the fact that they were not in anything even resembling shelter. It was a decently flat section of the desert though, so there shouldn’t be anything sneaking up on them, especially since Arcade wasn’t so far gone that he wasn’t keeping watch too.

The thin undershirt was a delightful tease though, riding up whenever Cam bent over, and at least half of his back was still fully exposed. The armored pants, sadly, did protect against lecherous doctors, but Arcade was fine with that. Mostly due to the fact that it was unlikely he’d get any real opportunity to do more than idly daydream about the feel of that body against his. Emphasis on _idly_ , as there weren’t any convenient hiding places to enjoy himself more thoroughly.

As he’d discovered last time they went home, getting _excited_ around Cam would lead to a circle of no relief. Arcade’s arousal would get Cam going, which would make him blush and go all shy, and Arcade couldn’t resist teasing him, which made Cam _more_ fidgety, and on and on it went. A frustrating game that ended when Cam ‘remembered’ that he ‘forgot something’ and nearly bowled through the door in his haste to escape.

Arcade had felt a little guilty touching himself in the comfort of their bed, picturing Cam doing the same thing wherever he ran off to. Not enough to stop, certainly, but enough to pretend to be asleep when Cam returned with a glowing blush outshined only by his pip-boy’s flashlight.

Were it possible to die of sexual frustration, Arcade was pretty sure neither of them would survive this bizarre courtship-limbo he’d only half-intentionally trapped them in. But for now, he was content to sip his water and ogle Cam while he could. Wait for the moment when he could tell the man the truth and figure out what it meant to reciprocate those feelings. Arcade was patient.

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He couldn’t bring himself to tell Cam _no_ when that eye-bot booted up. Cam had just grinned so beautifully, a shining smile that practically blinded everyone, and how was he supposed to explain himself?

“Sorry Cam, you can’t have the robot because I’m afraid it will link me to a defunct terrorist group that I’ve never mentioned before and I didn’t say anything while you spent the last month hunting down parts because I hoped it was broken but now that I know it’s functional, I’d like you to dismantle it. Also no, I still won’t tell you anything else about my past because I haven’t figured out how to make me seem like less of an jerk for not trusting you even though you’ve done everything possible to earn that trust, I’ve just got issues that I also won’t explain.”

So Arcade just forced a smile, cracked a joke about the robot going crazy and killing them all, and gotten ‘reassured’ that Cam would never let anything hurt him _ever_. Which prompted Johnson to chuckle and Ruby to smack his arm and ask why he didn’t say romantic things like that anymore. And then they were off with their new floating watch-dog, Cam blissfully unaware of the target it represented.

But Arcade did have to admit that the eye-bot made things easier. It took over night-watch, letting Cam and Arcade spend the whole night together. That alone made the mild risk to Arcade’s cover worth it, honestly, but Cam also genuinely… liked having the robot. He’d spend a portion each night ‘chatting’ with it, cleaning its armor and making sure it didn’t need patching, and Arcade had on multiple occasions caught him giving it a _hug_.

As insane as it was, Cam had quite literally made himself a new friend. And, as Arcade had predicted, he seemed to be loving it into reciprocating those feelings. ED-E, or ‘Eddie’ as Cam called it, always hovered closer to Cam and was rarely more than a few ‘steps’ away. Even right now, it was beeping cheerfully at him, while he nodded. Arcade couldn’t make heads or tails of the ’communication’, but Cam certainly seemed to be understanding just fine.

Arcade couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but pleased at how happy Cam was. Maybe it was because he was getting so very thoroughly snuggled each night; he can’t think of a time he’d had such good, consecutive rest. Even now, with him however unintentionally excluded from the conversation, just watching the way Cam tapped his chin in thought (a mannerism he’d definitely picked up from Arcade) had him turning away to hide a smile.

“Okay Bud-E, I’m sleepy.” Cam announced, patting the robot on the head.

Bud-E, the nickname he’d given it after Arcade tried (and failed) to explain that ED-E should be pronounced E-D-E, as in the letters, as in not Eddie. He’d gotten beeped in a distinctly mocking way after that, too.

Its engines whirred as it lifted of Cam’s lap and then it shoved into his chest, beeping a chipper three-tone tune.

“Love you too!” Cam laughed.

It rumbled a strange buzzing noise before flying up properly, ignoring Arcade’s staring.

Apparently a _robot_ was better prepared to handle and reciprocate Cam’s feelings. He did not know how he felt about that.

ED-E then zoomed away, to patrol around the cave they were holed up in. Cam stretched with a yawn and then looked at Arcade, the smile lingering on his face.

“Bedtime?”

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Cam snuggled up to Arcade, head resting against his chest, humming softly. He wasn’t asleep, as evidenced by the humming, but obviously very comfortable.

They’d spruced up their bedrolls by first throwing away the terrible lumpy single person ones and then shelling out a not-exactly-small fortune for one double-wide and double-thick. It was almost _cozy_ , even on the rocky cave floor, and worth every cap. Especially since it meant no one wound up on the cold, bare ground because they’d moved wrong in their sleep.

Arcade shifted a little, nudging Cam, and got a content little grumble as the man obligingly moved so he could lie on his side. He’d gotten used to it and now had a hard time lying flat, which made cuddling tricky when he wanted to hold Cam.

Unlike Cam, Arcade did not particularly enjoy sleeping face to face. It was okay, if one of them shrunk down a little so it was more like face to chest, but still, there was a reason spooning was the ubiquitous cuddling position.

“Roll over.” Arcade said, giving him a gentle shove.

Cam nuzzled closer, burying his face in Arcade’s chest. Going against his own request, Arcade stroked his back.

“Why?”

Not an objection, just a question. But Cam could sleep in any position, upside-down and in a tree, so he probably wouldn’t understand Arcade’s issue.

Which to be fair, Arcade could very well sleep on his side just like this, with Cam tucked into his shirt. Or on his other side, with Cam around him instead. But sometimes, he just wanted to be the big spoon.

“So I can hold you.”

He knew it’d be a tempting offer, which might be necessary since Cam never was the little spoon. When Arcade held Cam, it was on his back with Cam half-sprawled atop him or like this, never at Cam’s back. Which at this point, with them sleeping together for so long, might mean there was a reason for it.

“Uh.” Cam’s fingers tapped along Arcade’s hip as he hesitated, but evidentially came up blank on an argument. “…Okay.”

Arcade got one last hug before he moved, always willing to at least try what Arcade said. Cam stayed still as Arcade wrapped around him, pulling him tight around the middle. He rested his forehead against the broad expanse of back in front of him, and Cam’s hand sat atop his.

“Okay?” Arcade asked, after a few seconds.

Cam still wasn’t moving, only his fingers rubbing small circles against the back of Arcade’s hand. He shifted back a bit, into Arcade, and then clearly forced himself to relax.

“Yeah. Just… different.”

Arcade supposed that there wouldn’t be much reason for Cam to be used to this end of cuddling. He was significantly larger than Richards and also pretty much everyone they’d ever met. The obvious default would be for Cam to wrap around someone else, not to mention the fact that he clearly enjoyed it.

And Arcade would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it too, but it was good to press his face into Cam’s back, curl around the bulk of him and feel just how damn _big_ he was. His thumb ran up and down, a small soothing arc on Cam’s belly, and he could feel Cam starting to actually ease into the embrace.

“S’nice.” Cam murmured, hand still resting on Arcade’s.

He will deny to his dying breath the kiss he pressed against Cam’s back, unable to resist the impulse. But the man didn’t say anything, just sighed a soft little noise, and soon enough, he was slack in Arcade’s arms. He didn’t last much longer than that.

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Arcade’s eyes opened slowly, not really wanting to. He’d been having such a nice dream of… something. But he was awake now and blinked in the near-pitch blackness of the cave.

Nothing was happening. There was no reason for him to have been roused awake. He was still pressed against Cam’s back, the man dead asleep. Like he should be.

If he strained his ears, he could hear the soft clicking whir of ED-E patrolling. But he probably was just imagining that, actually.

Cam made a soft noise, shifting, and he mumbled something soothing automatically. If something had happened to wake Arcade up, Cam should be awake too. And he wasn’t. So then there was no reason for him to be awake and he could tuck back in and see if he can’t chase down that dream again.

Whatever it was. It was nice, though.

Just as Arcade was almost back asleep, Cam whimpered, jarring him out of dreamland once more. He stroked Cam’s belly, frowning.

He had nightmares occasionally, but usually just flinched out of them. Other than snoring on occasion, he didn’t really make noise in his sleep.

Despite his attempts to soothe him, Cam was still restless. He wriggled back against Arcade and twisted his head around and kept making little almost-cries.

He was weighing the pros and cons of waking Cam when the choice was made for him. Cam gasped, jerking away from Arcade like he was burnt. He breathed heavily, pressing a hand to his face, and Arcade sat up too.

“You okay?” His voice was thick from sleep and he coughed, trying to clear it. “Nightmare?”

Cam flinched and then laughed, shakily.

“No. M’okay.”

If Arcade’s voice was thick, then Cam’s was downright _husky_. Rough as gravel, but he didn’t elaborate further, just dropped his face in his hands, breathing slow and deep. Uncertain, Arcade set a hand on his shoulder, patting, and he stiffened.

He claimed it wasn’t a nightmare, but he was clearly rattled. Arcade shook off the vestiges of sleep to focus on him. Instinct had him reaching for Cam’s face, patting blindly to find his forehead and check for fever. He was warm, but the normal kind; Cam ran hot in his sleep, a fact that Arcade enjoyed thoroughly.

Cam took his wrist and pulled him away from his face, not unkindly, and Arcade took the hint and stopped touching him. It was odd for Cam to refuse contact though; sometimes after a particularly bad nightmare he mistook Arcade for an enemy, but once he remembered he’d always wanted at least a hug. And to apologize for the confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

Arcade hadn’t realized how much of their communication had gone physical. He felt oddly pointless, unable to comfort Cam in the ways that he’d grown used to.

“Nothing.”

A quick answer, and definitely a lie, and Arcade frowned in the darkness. Cam’s only hesitations about sharing his nightmares were when they featured Legion and even then, he never directly lied about it.

He considered pushing it, but Cam just fell backwards into the bed, curling up. Not quite the fetal position, but definitely tighter than the relaxed curve he’d been before.

Arcade followed suit, but didn’t wrap around him again. He stayed a little bit away, giving him space, and ignored the pang at the distance.

They laid there in silence for a few seconds, Arcade trying to sort out possibilities because he damn well wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep, no matter how groggy he was.

The only thing he could come up with though was that he’d been holding onto Cam. They hadn’t done anything particularly ‘scary’ today, they’d not seen hide or tail of a single Legionnaire in days, and just a few hours ago Cam was exchanging ‘I love you’s with a robot. Nothing to induce a nightmare there.

But Cam claimed it wasn’t one, and that hadn’t sounded like a lie, despite the fact that he was still bothered by it. He was awake, just lying as still as he could so Arcade wouldn’t notice.

Cam rolled over and Arcade turned towards the sound. A hand brushed his shoulder and then travelled lower, seeking his, and automatically, he took it.

He was still farther away than they’d slept in a long, long time, but the contact did reassure Arcade a little. Enough to dare to scoot a hair closer, vigilant for the sound of Cam trying to get away.

“Sorry.” Cam breathed and then squeezed his hand.

“What for?”

His hand was lifted and then lips brushed across his knuckles, ghostlike.

“Worrying you.”

What sort of role-reversal was this, that Arcade was now the one edging towards Cam, trying to be sneaky as though it was possible to stealth-cuddle?

“It’d worry me less if you told me what was going on.”

His breath was humid against Arcade’s skin as he sighed.

“Promised you time.” Cam mumbled.

Then his hand was dropped and Cam caught his shoulder, stopping him from moving forward. They weren’t that far apart, maybe a foot or so, but far enough to prevent anything from touching.

“What?”

Cam didn’t stop him from reaching out, to take his hand again. Arcade didn’t move forward anymore, just held his hand in the dark and waited for him to speak.

“I… _liked_ you holding me.” He said it delicately, hesitant, and then swallowed audibly. “A lot.”

It took a second to process—and hopefully that would be the last of their role-reversal—and then Arcade was torn between laughter and irritation.

“Then why didn’t you want me to touch you?”

His hand was pulled back to Cam’s face, so Cam could nuzzle against it.

“ _Always_ want you to touch me.” He refuted. “But… Not like that.”

Arcade was too tired to be vague.

“You don’t want to have sex?”

Cam froze.

“No! I mean, yes? Um.”

Arcade managed to not groan, but it was a close one. He should’ve known better than to ask a negative but he was a little stung.

“I want to, but not like… an accident. Promised to wait, too.”

That soothed the hurt. Arcade pulled his hand out of Cam’s and skimmed down his shoulder, aiming for his waist. Once found, he tugged him forward, properly together, and Cam went willingly. Though, he angled his hips in a rather noticeable—and recognizable—way, letting their torsos touch but nothing lower.

He supposed having one of _those_ dreams was embarrassing enough when you weren’t agonizing over respecting personal boundaries. Which, he should probably at some point work how he and Cam felt about sex. But right now, there was exactly one thing on his mind.

“Roll over.”

This time, there was no argument. Cam obeyed without hesitation, letting Arcade press against his back and draw him close.

It really was quite nice, wrapped around him as much as he could be, and Cam pushed back to make sure they were entirely together. He yawned, not hiding it, and Cam patted his hand. He hoped that this incident wouldn’t turn Cam off being the little spoon, because it really was very comfortable.

Though turning Cam off was apparently not the problem.

“Are you going to tell me about your dream?”

Cam stiffened immediately and Arcade smiled against his back, squeezing his middle.

“Not a good idea.” He mumbled.

“Why not?”

Arcade was definitely too tired to do much of anything with it, but teasing Cam was an always activity. His hand started to stroke up and down (and decidedly more _down_ ) and Cam made a noise that could only be described as ‘ _eep_ ’.

“Did you just-”

“Sleep! Bedtime!”

A scandalized whisper and Cam got a firm grip on Arcade’s hand, keeping it well above anything interesting. Arcade snickered to himself as he relaxed around Cam and, after a few minutes of no further harassment, Cam settled as well.

He’ll ask more another time.

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Watching Cam and Manny roughhouse while sitting with Boone was like diffusing a bomb using only the tells of a man who never, ever blinked.

Seriously. Arcade watched once, while the subject was distracted. For a full three minutes. Not once did Boone’s eyes close. Terrifying.

If he looked too long at the bomb in question, the sniper would kill him. Probably. Or not, it was just a baseless anxiety due to the absolutely unreadable nature of Boone. But there was a definite _something_ whenever Boone turned to him to see that he was looking at Cam.

Regardless, they were back in Novac for a delayed catch-up. They’d spent quite a while exploring the south-west portion of the Mojave, doing chores for the Outpost and sticking their noses in all sorts of explosive business, and they were well-overdue for their usual visiting with Daisy-and-Cam’s-friends.

And now it was time for the portion of the day where Cam and Manny one-up each other in increasingly stupid macho contests. While Arcade _tried_ to supervise in a concerned-actual-adult way, _maybe_ sneaking a few he’s-still-just-a-man peeks, but without alerting the already-raised hackles of a goddamn First Recon sniper.

What the hell pheromones did Cam exude that everyone around him took one (1) look and immediately adopted him? The King, Julie, Doc Mitchells… hell, himself. He agreed to leave The Fort with nothing even resembling a plan, just because Cam _asked_.

Arcade dimly recalled the asinine thought he’d had—radioactive friendship—and wondered if maybe _that_ was something he should study. Figure out what clearly sedating chemical Cam had running through him and dose the Mojave. Crack that code and the desert would be full of cuddles and rainbows, probably.

He's distracted by the thought enough to buy him a few peaceful moments of absently watching Cam and Manny’s newest game: Eddie-Ball. They’d found a hoop somewhere, really just a metal ring, and given it to ED-E. It zoomed around the motel plaza, chirping excitedly, while the men squabbled over the ball. Arcade had surmised that the goal was to get the ball through the hoop, but neither of them had succeeded in that yet.

ED-E was obviously favoring Cam, hovering far closer to him than to Manny, but Cam was _terrible_ at holding onto the ball. He’d barely make it two steps before Manny did some fast-moves and get it back, only for ED-E to rocket away, almost singing its beeps.

Boone snorted and Arcade looked at him through his peripheral vision. He was wearing those sunglasses again, but they were sitting closely enough for Arcade to see his eyes. Trained firmly on Manny, he noted.

“Robot has some trash-talk.” He muttered, arms crossing.

Defensive, like Arcade’s glance had been anything other than curious, but Boone didn’t really _laugh_ in Arcade’s presence. He’d been surprised that Cam was so fond of him, what with the Boone being eight parts stoic silence to two parts justified killer.

He could’ve chalked that up to them simply bonding over hating Legion, except for the fact that Cam wasn’t actually the violent type. He took no pleasure from fighting; he slaughtered Legion like Sunny exterminated Goodspring’s mantises.

As strange as it was, Cam sought Boone’s approval, especially with his and Manny’s ridiculous feats. If he got a nod, which Arcade had translated as heaped praise, Cam smiled with that same delight as whenever Doc Mitchell told him he’d ‘done good’.

Daisy’s reaction to his suggestion that Boone was Cam’s secret crush made sense, now that he was surveying their relationship with clearer eyes. Manny was his ‘buddy’, someone to pal around with, but Boone was someone he looked up to. The one he’d traveled with, for a while.

Cam’s emotional family tree was getting complicated, but Arcade was confident he was sticking people on the right branches.

“Trash talk?” Arcade asked, turning back to the spectacle.

The robot was certainly making a lot of noise, but it was _just_ noise. Boone jerked his head towards the scene, not exactly a nod.

“Keeps calling Manny short.”

Arcade wasn’t certain which was stranger, that ED-E was actually saying something intelligible or the fact that he was apparently the only one who couldn’t understand it. He was silent too long and Boone turned to him, evaluating.

“You don’t know Morse?”

Not _exactly_ judgment, but Arcade bristled regardless. The dots and dashes of auditory Morse was incredibly distinctive and even if he might not be familiar enough with the pseudo-language, he would certainly _recognize_ it.

“That isn’t Morse code.”

Boone stared back at him, impassively, and Arcade crossed his arms.

And now he was in a defense-off with Cam’s ‘older brother’. But Boone just snorted again before turning.

It wasn’t a victory, it was a called-off battle. Irritating.

“MMC. Modified-Morse Code.” His eyes were back to the game, focusing on ED-E. “More information in less time. Easier to learn.”

Cam managed to yank the ball out of Manny’s hands only to immediately trip over an outstretched foot. Manny grabbed the ball as it bounced away and then chased ED-E.

“An NCR code?” Arcade asked.

Why the hell did Cam know it? Admittedly, the notion that Cam was just inventing ED-E’s ‘communication’ had unfortunate implications for Cam’s psyche, but the discovery that he was fluent in some covert language was… odd.

“NCR uses it, but I doubt they invented it.”

Cam pushed himself to his feet and then Manny was the middle of a rousing game of chase: Cam after a breathlessly-laughing Manny, Manny after ED-E, and ED-E making a new range of clicking-beeps that were bizarrely like laughter.

“Heard a rumor that it came from Zion, but never paid it much mind. I wasn’t a comms guy.”

Robot beat man, but Cam beat Manny. He scooped him up bodily, shaking him, and Manny’s limbs waved uselessly in the air as he struggled to get out.

The ball bounced away, forgotten, and Arcade was shocked to see a _smile_ on Boone’s face, pointed at the impromptu wrestling match.

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Cam was humming as they walked away from Novac, back on the road again. North, it was time for them to do a swing through Freeside and probably visit the Boomers after; Arcade had seen the stack of toys Cam had purchased, even if the man had tried to hide them.

But Cam was in such good spirits that it drew Arcade’s attention, as much as he wanted to ponder about Boone.

He’d gotten a not-at-all grumpy-sounding remark about Cam being a ‘kid brother’ out of Boone, unnecessary confirmation of their filial relationship. As it turned out, a significant portion of Cam’s romantic advice came from _him_ , after Richards had thoroughly confused the poor lug.

Arcade wasn’t sure if he was grateful that _someone_ had explained it to Cam or wished that it had been someone slightly less repressed. Then again, it meant that _he_ didn’t have to do it, which would be such a conflict of interest.

It was also more than enlightening. Especially the piece about how _Boone_ had been the one to tell Cam to talk to Arcade, with the promise that if things didn’t work out, they’d go kill as many Legionnaires as it took to make Cam feel better.

Slightly better than the suicidal impression Arcade had gotten from Cam, but still worrying that his version of comforting someone involved bloodshed.

Regardless, this was all very interesting to think about, except Cam was whistling now, ED-E joining in with some almost rhythmic beeping. It sounded something like an evil child with a tin-whistle met a ticking bomb.

“I hate to break up... whatever this is,” Arcade started, absolutely not hating stopping that ear-trauma. “But what’s got you so pleased?”

“Man- wait,” Cam looked around wildly, as though for eavesdroppers.

A contagious action that Arcade copied, even though they were on a desert road with not a single other person around. Dinky still rose up in the distance, but that was the only sign of other humans. Cam deemed it secure enough and then _jumped_ with glee, clapping his hands together.

“Manny loves Boone!”

Arcade rose his eyebrows and Cam’s grin somehow split wider.

“And Boone loves Manny!”

He did have to admit that the sniper looked at Manny more than he looked at anyone else, but he could hardly call that _love_. Not that he was an expert, but Boone was a rather… cool person. In the sense of warm versus cold, at least. Even Cam couldn’t get a hug on him and Arcade had long ago assumed Cam could convince a yao guai to accept the embrace.

“ _And_ Manny’s gonna tell him!”

Arcade couldn’t help smiling along, not with the way Cam’s exuberance had him nearly shouting that last bit. ED-E added its own thoughts on the matter, a series of rapid-fire chirps, and Cam clapped, nodding vigorously at whatever the robot said.

Arcade wondered if Cam was fluent enough—or conscious of his fluency—to teach him. Boone had just shrugged, repeating that he wasn’t a ‘comms guy’.

“I take it you’ve orchestrated their confession?” Arcade asked and Cam nodded eagerly.

“I made Manny _promise_ to tell him _annnnd_ ,” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I told Boone that he had a secret.”

His eyebrows waggled at the devious plotting and Arcade shook his head, to hide the chuckle. He could see it, a little, between the pair. Manny did sometimes get this longing look to his eyes, though Boone was a doorless bunker when it came to opening up. But Cam knew the both of them very well. Enough for them to have confided in him.

“I hope it goes well.”

Cam didn’t have any words left for the matter, just a noise that was not quite a squeal, and started outright _skipping_ along the path.

Arcade ought to see if he could hunt down some romance novels for him. Assuming his cupid-heart could take it.


	21. The Gift[s]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: none

Arcade had not expected that the invisible, purple Super Mutants were real. He’d honestly assumed that Cam had hallucinated them, or gotten a concussion, or perhaps simply ate something that disagreed with him.

But then they went to Jacobstown.

Arcade leaned against the wall, watching Cam brush a bighorner and babble to his ‘grandma’.

Who was a ‘Nightkin’ in a straw hat named Lily.

Arcade had been immediately adopted as well, Lily patting him on the head and delighting that Cam had finally ‘brought someone home’. With the briefest of hesitations, Cam had introduced Arcade as his best friend. Given who Cam was as a person, Arcade was pretty sure he was now confessing the truth of his feelings to Lily.

He wondered if he was about to have a Super Mutant try and set him up.

While that definitely was the most surreal part of the day, there was still other weirdness. Doc Henry was here. And as friendly with Cam as he was with everyone else, which was to say, he ordered Cam around and listened to every fourth word.

But Cam hadn’t been bothered by it. Apparently, Henry had been the one to fix Rex, back before he and Arcade started travelling together.

And then something triggered ED-E to start playing a recording from its creator, ‘Whitley’. Luckily, Henry had been more together than Arcade and had managed to explain without blowing Arcade’s cover, adding that the scientist was a ‘damned fool’. Much to Arcade’s relief, Cam had accepted it with little fanfare, giving ED-E some soothing pats and asking if it needed a nap.

He's not sure how he would have handled it on his own. But now he needed to keep an even closer eye on the robot; ‘Whitley’ might have left them more surprises.

They were staying the night now, because the mountain was dangerous in the dark, and that left Arcade two options. One, watch Cam soak up maternal attention like the affection-hungry sponge he was. Two, see if Henry was as prickly as he remembered.

Tempting as those were, he went for option three, to go relax in the room Marcus lent them. He didn’t want Lily scooping him up like she kept doing Cam and Henry was going to be buried in work right now. Arcade had finally achieved his boyhood dream of suggesting something Henry hadn’t thought of and now he had a breakthrough in his research on the Nightkin.

Without any further risk to Lily. Arcade was still riding that high of a _compliment_ from Henry. Cam’s gratitude that his ‘grandma’ would be safe was icing on that unbelievable cake.

There was also the rush of watching Cam stand up to Keene. Cam might not be great with words, but he had a strange charisma. Something about him made people _want_ to listen, some sort of ‘let’s all get along’ magnetism. Arcade had watched him talk down everyone from trigger-happy NCR soldiers to scowling merchants.

He did _not_ use those inexplicable powers with Keene. Cam stood up against him like some caveman, almost able to meet the Nightkin eye to eye, and told him to sit down and wait for the doctor to finish.

Cam normally was a soother, diffusing situations with calm words and friendly reminders, but that had been more like stopping a missile with a bigger missile. Except Cam was smaller. Just firm, resolute, because he was defending someone he loved. It was a little weird that it was a Super Mutant that almost definitely had no actual relation to him, but at least he wasn’t getting himself hurt trying to protect Arcade this time.

He just compelled a giant with super strength to back down with nothing but willpower. No big deal. Arcade had the normal amount of feelings about it.

He reached the room Marcus had lent them and shook off the completely standard, definitely platonic feelings. It was a _nice_ room. Before it became a Super Mutant refuge, Jacobstown must have been some sort of resort, and the luxury still remained even in the apocalypse. Arcade was very much looking forward to crawling into that bed tonight; the comforter promised to be heavy and warm and the mattress was still soft and it was going to be a _good_ night’s sleep.

But it was the sitting area calling his name right now. There were a pair of plush armchairs, facing a truly massive window that had a breathtaking view of the cliffs and an actual working lamp. The _perfect_ reading nook.

Or it would be, if either chair were available. ED-E had decided to charge on one of them and he was hardly going to move it. Cam would be horrified if Arcade made ED-E ‘sleep’ on the floor. But Cam had dumped all his stuff on top of the other, so he would have to deal with Arcade relocating his belongings.

Not that he would care, at all.

The sledgehammer was difficult but still, he managed to get it to the corner, propping it against the wall, without breaking any toes. Jacket and shotgun migrated with ease. But Arcade misjudged the weight of his backpack—hefting it up like it was going to be the normal twenty pound pack not twice as heavy as the damn sledge—and immediately dropped it. The top—untied, of course—flopped open and spilled socks and other stuff all over the floor. Arcade sighed.

Really, Cam needed to remember to shut his bag properly, especially if he planned on carting around rocks or whatever. But at least it was mostly clothing this time that spilled out and not anything delicate or explosive. Socks, some shirts, and… a sweater tied around a package?

Arcade paused, glancing to the closed door. But curiosity was his oldest vice and he unfolded the sweater to find two books, one practically as thick as a brick. He’d never seen Cam with a book before; the most reading he did was on his pip-boy or looking at the pictures in a magazine.

He really needed to remember to get someone to check Cam’s eyesight. Arcade suspected he was farsighted and also possibly dyslexic. As much as he enjoyed reading to Cam, he did stand by the fact that literacy was important. Besides the idea of sitting next to Cam, them both absorbed in their own reading… Certainly a not insignificant portion of their downtime was spent in quiet activities, usually Cam working on some craft or another, and Arcade cherished every evening, but there was something intrinsically appealing to the idea of them both reading their own books.

But to the more pressing matter… Cam’s backpack was usually organized, otherwise he’d lose things. There was no way the books had gotten accidentally tangled with the sweater. Cam had to have intentionally wrapped them. Like he was hiding them.

The right thing to do, of course, would be to re-wrap them and put them back, before Cam saw him snooping through his things. Just pretend to not know anything about it until Cam brought it up.

…But Cam was busy with Lily, catching her up on his adventures. He could take a minute to investigate.

The bigger book was deep burgundy with an eye-catching mosaic pattern on the cover and a stylized portrait of a balding man. He opened to the front page and gasped.

The cover page declared, in elegant filigree, that it was The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. There were of course hundreds of copies of Shakespeare’s plays, he was one of the most popular classics, but this was the first _intact_ collection Arcade had seen.

He flipped through the pages carefully, reverent, and if his hands shook a little, then that was to be expected. No missing pages, barely any damage; hell, the fore-edge gilding still shone in the light!

Either Cam was the luckiest goddamn scavenger in the world or he paid a _fortune_ for this. Reluctantly, he set it down to examine the second book, only to find himself equally gob-smacked.

A leather-bound edition of Iliad & Odyssey, with beautifully done artwork on the end pages. Again, in remarkable condition, the only flaw was some scuffing on the binding. Technically he had his own copy of The Odyssey, but that was a beat-up paperback that he’d had to rebind a dozen times now.

 _This_ was art unto itself. He almost didn’t want to be touching it with his bare hands.

Where had Cam found these? How much had he paid?

…What were they for? It felt more than wrong—criminally presumptuous not to mention _greedy_ —to assume that they were for him but… It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Cam had done. Several times he’d given Arcade books, for no reason, and he was surprisingly good at finding ones Arcade would be interested in. _These_ would certainly qualify.

Of course, Cam tended to grab any books that were still read-able, to bring them home and set up on one of the other bookshelves. Arcade wasn’t sure if he liked collecting or was just taking them because the shelf was empty and it made sense, in the occasionally sideways logic of Cam’s brain.

It hardly mattered, because _Arcade_ liked the visual of filled shelves, even if more than half was entirely unappealing to him, a blend of everything from children’s novels to cookbooks. Though, he’d seen Cam looking over their library with a sort of wistfulness, his fingers twitching as he considered the way Arcade had re-ordered the chaos. By type, then alphabetical by the author’s lass name, a sensible system that was possibly incomprehensible to Cam. Which was another point in favor of remembering to get an optometry appointment for Cam.

Arcade picked up the Shakespeare again, looking between the two, and tried to calm down the giddiness. Even if these weren’t specifically _for_ him, he would’ve known if they were on some sort of mission to acquire them. Books always went straight to their library. He would have them, in a small way, to read them and admire the artwork and… The giddiness was irresistible.

The door squealed, protesting, and Arcade didn’t have enough time to do anything but flinch before Cam was in the room, glancing around before lighting on him with an immediate smile.

“There you are.”

Relief—distantly, Arcade realized that he’d just disappeared without a word—and then he was practically skipping across the room.

“Time for dinner, what are yo-” His gaze fell to Arcade’s lap and he stopped short, eyes on the books. “…Oh.”

Arcade didn’t recognize the emotion, but it jogged his brain enough to spit out words.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

The excuse of a hundred bad behaviors and Arcade could kick himself.

“Well, actually, it is. I was trying to clear off the chair and dropped your bag and then I was cleaning up but I found these and I couldn-”

“Woah!” Cam interrupted, hands up and eyes wide, and Arcade managed to shut his trap before he rambled off a cliff. “S’okay!”

He’s glad it was just Cam seeing him this flustered, but he was split between the anxious panic of having been caught with his hand in the metaphoric cookie jar and the fact that he _really_ wanted these cookies.

Cam crouched down, gathering up the mess Arcade had abandoned and started sorting it back into his bag. He wasn’t looking at Arcade, focused on his task, and Arcade wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“They’re yours. Supposed to be for tomorrow, but,” He shrugged, eyes flicking up, with a smile. “Are they good?”

Arcade bit down the first twelve sentences that tried to leap out of his throat. He forced himself to take an even breath and formulate a cogent, succinct response to A) thank Cam for the absolutely amazing gift, B) figure out where the _hell_ he got them, and C) explain just how incredibly beyond ‘good’ they were. 

But instead of helping with that, his brain just idled on glee. If he were the sort to picture such things, he would imagine that there was a small child in his skull running around singing ‘Mine Mine Mine!’.

“These are… I can’t even imagine how you _found_ these let alone understand why you’re _giving_ them to me.”

He supposed that to Cam, they were just books. He liked cuddling up to Arcade and being read to—a lot—but he probably had no idea why these ones were special, other than that they were shiny. And yet he hid them in his pack to surprise Arcade, _again_ , with a present.

Arcade looked down at them, aware Cam was watching him but not able to focus on anything other than the gently glittering gifts.

And now he’s _alliterating_.

“I got them for you.” Cam repeated. “But not telling where. Secret.”

He could hear the grin in Cam’s voice, the delight that he’d managed to keep something from Arcade, and as much as he wanted to know… he was pretty sure Cam would be upset to lose the secret.

“What about _how_? This should have cost… I don’t even know how much it would cost!”

Arcade looked up to see Cam wagging a finger at him, the effect ruined by his smile. 

“Not supposed to ask how much gifts cost.” Cam chided. “‘Sides, you’re worth it.”

And now the glee twisted into embarrassment, but even the mild nausea of Cam’s sickly-sweet affection couldn’t ruin the moment. Arcade just ran his fingers lightly over the textured cover of the Iliad—it was embossed with a chariot and horse—and Cam went back to reorganizing his bag.

“Are you gonna read ‘em right now?”

Cam was looking at him, curious, and he considered it. On one hand, he wanted to wrap them in a bubble to keep them perfectly safe. On the other, they were books, and their purpose was to be read.

“After dinner.” He decided and then pulled them close, to his chest.

He was _not_ hugging them. He was just… holding them. Against his body. With his arms.

“Oh, that’s what I was s’pposed to tell you! It’s dinner time.”

Cam hopped to his feet and then offered a hand down to Arcade. He took it, of course, and after wrapping the books in several layers of cloth, they walked down the hall together.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It took until they were settled into their post-dinner activities, sitting in the paired armchairs, that Arcade remembered the off-hand comment.

“Cam?”

Cam hummed, not looking up from his work. He was darning socks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. Two pyramids of neatly folded pairs sat on the coffee table between them. 

Some were Arcade’s. He’d been lost in his book—it’d been years since he last read the Iliad and he’d forgotten so much—and had just automatically answered when Cam asked if he had any hole-y socks. Now he didn’t, because Cam was quietly mending them while listening to ED-E beep and occasionally mumbling a ‘huh’ or ‘wow’. It almost distracted him from his original question.

But he shook of the bizarre feeling—a mix of surprised gratitude and embarrassment—and the at-this-point normal inanity to focus. If he stopped every time Cam was hyper-considerate and/or weird, he’d never get anywhere.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Uh…” Cam glanced at ED-E, who rattled and then obligingly chirped. “Eddie says Sunday, sixth of November, 2281”

He then resumed darning. For anyone else, Arcade would’ve assumed this to be deflection, but Cam wasn’t tense at all. Just zeroed in on his task; his entire world was that sock and whatever story ED-E had been telling him.

“Is that day special?”

Cam blinked, frowning at the sock, and then looked up at Arcade.

“I… don’t know? Is it?”

Genuine befuddlement, obviously thrown by the question, and Arcade rubbed his fingers against his book.

Such a delightful texture. He loved leather-bound books.

“You said that the books were meant for tomorrow.”

Arcade could see the moment that the date and the meaning—whatever it was—clicked in Cam’s mind. His eyes widened, his mouth opened slightly, and then he was dedicatedly back to work on the sock. Arcade had never seen him sew so quickly before.

“Right. Said that. Out loud.” Cam muttered and ED-E looked between them.

If it were alive, Arcade would have said its mechanical hum was amused.

“What was the occasion?”

Perhaps he should ask Cam complicated questions while he was sewing more often. He finished the sock in record time and moved on to the next. Sadly for him, his distraction was about to run out: there were only two more socks.

“N-nothing important.”

When Cam lied, his voice didn’t so much jump octaves as it flew up them, like a rocket taking off.

Arcade placed the bookmark ribbon and then closed his book, setting it onto his lap. Cam’s only acknowledgment of becoming the sole focus of Arcade’s attention was to curl around his work, bowing his head more.

It wasn’t his birthday; Arcade often lost track of time but Daisy would kill him if he missed celebrating it with her. Besides, ED-E had said it was November—and _ugh_ that meant that the cold, wet season was starting—so he had a while before he had to worry about that.

Cam likely didn’t remember his own birthday, and maybe Arcade should do something about that, see if he could set something up with Doc Mitchell. But Cam wouldn’t give out gifts on his _own_ birthday even if he did remember…. Probably. Actually, he would, but Arcade shook off the idea anyways.

This wasn’t the first gift Cam had given him and that seemed to be a key fact. He didn’t make a big deal of it though, which made it hard to tell the distinction between Cam handing him something he found versus Cam specifically giving him a present.

But books, books when he didn’t expect them, books when it didn’t make sense for Cam to have found them… Arcade could think of two other times Cam had given him books.

The first time, what felt like a year ago, back at Westside. Three novels and Arcade was pretty sure they hadn’t done any scavving that day. Cam had simply passed him the stack over their breakfast, mumbling something vague about finding them.

Then, six or seven weeks ago. Just as non-ceremonial, handing over a loosely-wrapped bundle of books and a replacement lab coat.

Arcade paused and looked at Cam, who had finished the last sock and was staring at it with mild terror, apparently realizing he fact that he was now out of things to do with his hands.

“You hate shirts.”

An unexpected enough comment that he looked up, confusion overtaking desperate avoidance. It was true; Cam was happiest shirtless, only bothering with more as the situation demanded it. And he avoided anything tight or with a high-collar. He could barely tolerate regular t-shirts.

“Why do you have a sweater?”

Cam chewed his lip and then got up. Arcade watched as he walked over to his bag. He returned and then, careful to avoid any physical contact, he placed the sweater on Arcade’s lap.

“…S’gonna get cold soon.” He mumbled. “You don’t like the cold.”

Once again, that bizarre sensation of embarrassed pleasure struck Arcade and he couldn’t quite find his tongue. He gently shook out the sweater, unfolding it, and tried to recapture his analytical mind. He was supposed to be clever, wasn’t he?

He should’ve noticed that it was _his_ size, not Cam’s, but he’d been distracted by the books and tossed it aside without looking twice. But it was just as fine the books were.

Okay, not quite that, but it was still a very nice sweater. A dark charcoal gray, a very practical and attractive color, and soft despite the thickness. He wasn’t familiar enough with wools to know which animal it came from, but it already felt warm just from holding it, and he was… touched, touched was the word for it.

No wonder Cam was so distractible, since it seemed that he dedicated a significant portion of his mental resources to aggressively caring for Arcade. Silently. If Arcade hadn’t found the gift early, he was sure Cam would’ve just handed it over and wandered off. Like he did the last two times.

It was difficult, but Arcade managed to tear his eyes away from the sweater to look up at Cam, still standing next to him. Looking nervous, guilty, like he’d done something _wrong_ in being so intensely _sweet_.

“Why?”

Cam’s face paled like Arcade asked about his ‘secret’ porn stash. His mouth opened and he swallowed and he looked at the sweater then the book then almost at Arcade before dropping his head with a sigh.

“Tomorrow’s two hundred days.” He shifted, foot to foot. “Together.”

Arcade hadn’t had a single clue as to what the possible significance tomorrow held, but the notion of it being an _anniversary_ was somehow the bottom of that nonexistent list. He knew the shock was reading on his face and color returned to Cam like someone messed up a holo-tape’s saturation levels, going from white to red in a flash.

“Don’t—I know—it’s weird, but—I just,” Cam spoke like multiple sentences were trying to come out all at once and Arcade held up his hand.

One hundred days ago would be three months and a bit; that was about right for when they were in Westside the first time.

…Cam had said he’d loved Arcade for one hundred and ninety-eight days. Then, the day after they left New Vegas, he’d given him the lab coat and books.

Without fanfare, all by himself, Cam had been celebrating the milestones of their relationship. Arcade wasn’t sure if he was guilty—he hadn’t done a single thing—or touched—in the head at this point—or simply too caught off-guard to think anything other than _good lord_ , he did not deserve Cam.

“All of the gifts were for… that?” He asked, seeking clarification he didn’t need.

“Yeah.” Cam breathed and then paused. “Or for when I fel- when we met.”

The quick rewording went over Arcade’s head.

Or rather, he wanted it to. He really, really wished it did. But it didn’t. The implication was unavoidable, along with the math, and if Cam had just stayed the course and said ‘when I fell in love with you’ Arcade wouldn’t have ever connected that to ‘the day they met’ because it’s not like _he_ kept track of that.

But no. Cam probably didn’t want to directly reference the elephant in the room and instead hit Arcade over the head with the fact that _apparently_ , for Cam, it was a love at first sight situation.

Which he’d _tried_ to not realize, ever since Cam let it slip that there was a _forty-six_ day difference between how long he’d been in love versus how long they’d been together. Ignorance was not losing your dinner, after all.

‘Bliss’ could have multiple definitions.

“Oh.” He managed to say, strangling back the panic attack wanting to happen, and Cam nodded, mutely.

And now they were both avoiding each other’s eyes, the tension in the room rising to suffocating levels, and Arcade wondered if it would have been so bad to let this mystery go. Curiosity killed the cat and there was no resurrecting satisfaction here. 

“…Should I… Are you mad?”

The _pain_ in Cam’s voice snapped him out of it. He nearly launched his gifts when he jumped up, taking Cam by the shoulders. The guilt took center-stage when he saw how distraught Cam looked.

“No, no, I—How could I be _mad_ at you?”

Cam sniffled and if he started to cry, then there was no chance of Arcade surviving.

“You didn’t want… I’m s’pposed to be waitin’, but I just like giving you presents so much.”

In that moment, Arcade was not only subhuman, but subanimal, subtrash, just absolutely the _worst_ kind of being. He pulled Cam closer and Cam slouched in, to bury his face in Arcade’s chest. Cam clutched him as he stroked down his back, putting a hold on the mental self-flagellation to reassure this entirely too-caring man.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, I just… Panicked. I’ve never had someone want to do… any of this, before, and… It scares me.”

Not a single one of the quotes about honesty mention how utterly and painfully uncomfortable it felt to tell the truth.

But Cam’s arms squeezed him and he drew comfort from it. Even if it made the guilt worse since _he_ was supposed to be the one doing the soothing.

“It’s… it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Just to make you happy.”

Cam was dangerously close to understanding the problem. Arcade bit back six different deflections and an unknowable amount of sarcasm.

“Other people’s happiness has not been the priority of most people I know.”

Arcade had done it: he made a statement that was both incomprehensively vague and yet revealed far more than he wanted.

Cam pulled away and Arcade braced himself for… something. A hand touched his cheek and then Cam leaned it, resting his forehead against Arcade’s.

Entirely too intimate. Arcade wanted it to stop immediately, once he spent a few lifetimes of being bathed in the most adoring eyes he’d ever seen.

“I love making you happy.”

How was it that Cam would get disoriented in a building they’d visited a dozen times and sometimes forgot things as they were being explained and couldn’t use a computer without almost lasering a hundred people… but when it came to _this_ , he was perfectly sure?

“But… if it’s too much. I’ll stop. The gifts, not… the other thing.”

A small smile, with those damningly shining eyes, and the metaphoric ball was in Arcade’s court. Another decision handed to him. Cam’s heart, once again, on a platter for his perusal.

“Seems selfish of me to let you continue.”

A statement to buy him time. Because he _didn’t_ want Cam to stop, as alien as the sensation was, like some sort of warmth writhing in his core, it was good. Cam _cared_ for him, and that was an easier pill to swallow than love.

“S’not.”

No explanation why, just a ‘nope’ from Cam. But it must have taken him a while to find all those books, and the lab coat, and the sweater… He wouldn’t do it if it didn’t make him happy. Arcade once watched him toss aside a magazine because the ‘find the difference’ picture puzzle was too hard. Cam’s tolerance for tedium was somewhere around sugar-high toddler.

But Arcade couldn’t _ask_ for this.

“You don’t have to stop.” He said, finally. “But you don’t have to keep going, either.”

Cam nuzzled back into his neck, hiding the smile like he hadn’t already blinded Arcade with it in the two seconds his face was visible.

“Was already plannin’ the next one.”

Arcade hoped he was planning his funeral too, because Cam was going to be the death of him.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Cam snored softly, a sound that should be grating but at this point was kind of soothing. His face was smushed into Arcade’s hair, for probably the millionth time.

In his experience, a face-full of hair was unpleasant. But Cam seemed to fall asleep extra-fast with it, so what did he know?

Not near enough about Cam, apparently. He’d been keeping the true nature of these gifts secret for a while now… well, one hundred ninety-nine days, apparently. Arcade had had no idea that there was anything significant to them. If Cam hadn’t slipped, he still wouldn’t know.

But he crumpled once Arcade asked directly, so Arcade’s assessment of his secret-keeping skills still held in at ‘next to none’.

Maybe Arcade should start asking more questions. Probe a little deeper and see what else Cam was hiding by omission. Though, not about Cam’s book-source. As much as Arcade wanted to know, the mystery of it was a little… appealing.

He should see if he could hint a little, at specific books he wanted. As much as the notion of _asking_ for a gift made his skin crawl—he was an _adult_ —Cam wasn’t actually a mind-reader. Just very talented at surprising Arcade.

Which left the strangest ache in his chest. It wasn’t _bad_ , as odd as that sounded, but it was… intense. Cam _wanted_ to take care of him, Cam spent who knew how long and who knew how much money putting together presents for the sole, specific purpose of making Arcade happy, and Arcade could barely stand it.

Therapy. He should probably get some.

But he _knew_ what the problem was. Or at least, part of the problem. As much as he trusted Cam, with his life and everything he had, he _still_ hadn’t told him. Doubly pointless, because Henry _had_. Cam knew about Enclave, or at least a vague understanding that they were scientists who the NCR wanted dead, and didn’t care. Cam’s known since _before_ they started traveling together, back when he was first exploring the Mojave, and thought nothing of it.

He'd warned _Arcade_ , before they reached Jacobstown. Said that the doctor here was hiding from NCR but he was a ‘good guy’. Henry had laughed so hard Arcade had been concerned when he mentioned it, out of Cam’s earshot of course.

Once he was done laughing, he called Arcade an idiot. Said he was missing out on the ‘straightest shooter in the Wasteland’ trying to martyr himself for a cause that died when he was in diapers.

Daisy had said much the same thing, last time they were in Novac. She had some sort of sixth sense and somehow _knew_ that they still weren’t ‘really together’. Every time Arcade was alone with her, she poked and poked and poked. Reminding him that Cam was a good man.

_“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”_

_“He freaks out, ends our relationship, and then tells the NCR.”_

She’d laughed, not cruelly, but it’d stung all the same.

_“You think Cam’s got it in him to do that, I can’t help you. But let me say… even if that_ did _happen, which it won’t, well we’ve been through that before, boy. We’ll just find somewhere else.”_

It was… soothing, the implication that he wouldn’t be alone, even if he would’ve deserved it. He wouldn’t let her, of course, he couldn’t make her to move a _second_ time, not when she had finally built a life for herself. It might not be the one she wanted, but still.

And they were both right, of course. Cam might be upset that Arcade had kept it secret for this long, but Arcade knew logically that he wouldn’t do _that_.

But logic didn’t mean that suddenly Arcade could say anything. It was never the right moment, either they were out on the road and he didn’t want to add to Cam’s surprisingly full plate or they were in town and relaxing and Arcade didn’t want to ruin the mood.

…And not just because an unexpectedly broken part of him was still scared that he was wrong and Cam wasn’t going to be okay with it.

If he told Cam, and Cam accepted him, then… there was nothing holding him back. No reason to say _no_ to the whispers that Cam sometimes sleepily mumbled into his hair, when he was in that dozing state between awake and not. No reason to resist the way Cam wanted to shower him in gifts and affection, to drown him.

Arcade had made a half-serious joke about what he should do in return for the gifts and Cam had deflected, saying it wasn’t necessary… but then added that if he really wanted to, Cam would be interested in listening to The Iliad, a shy almost-request.

Like Arcade hadn’t spend _years_ daydreaming about curling up with someone and sharing his favorite stories. Like Arcade didn’t treasure every night they’d spent reading together, of Cam hanging on his words and wonderfully emotive to each twist.

Like reading to Cam wasn’t another gift.

He yawned, his body reminding him that physical needs trumped emotions, and pushed back into Cam a little. It got him a hug, like it always did, and he closed his eyes. There’ll be time later to panic more, to dwell on the Cam Problem and probably get more terrible advice from well-meaning people.

Maybe he’ll get lucky and Cam will find him some sort of ‘Love: For Dummies’ self-help book.


	22. Back to Goodsprings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: alcohol, tipsy flirting

It was close, but they made it back to Goodsprings the day of Sunny’s birthday, Cam visibly relaxing once they hit town. Technically the afternoon of, as it was nearly four pm, but it still counted.

Alice saw them first and sprinted as fast as her little legs could go to launch up at Cam. Then he was immediately roped into helping decorate. At some point while they were gone, the town had built out the front of the Saloon to make an outdoor eating area and set up a jukebox, and Alice was covering everything in flower garlands.

Arcade opted to just go home and rest a little before the party. He needed a nap after the hard pace Cam had marched them at. They’d been delayed by a nasty dust-storm and Cam had been _incredibly_ concerned they’d not make it in time. ED-E followed Arcade, apparently also wanting to recharge.

Probably for the best that no one heard that pun.

He stopped in their living room first. ED-E hovered briefly over the couch before cutting its jets, bouncing briefly, and settled. It made a four-tone descending hum, the one that marked sleep-mode.

“Goodnight.” Arcade said, reflexively, and then sighed.

Cam’s insistence on treating the robot like some sort of puppy had gotten to him. He shook it off, focusing on the shelves.

He should sort the books in their normal spots… but he also wanted to display them. They were art, after all. He deliberated, absently looking over their collection.

Thirty or forty books, now. Mostly random ones that Cam had found, the ones that were intact enough to bother keeping. Three cookbooks, one in French, and a half-dozen picture books meant for young children. The bulk were novels though, from young adult fantasies about dragons and elves to _very_ adult _fantasies_ featuring mostly faceless, buff men, according to the covers.

A wide range indeed, this little library, and two books richer. Arcade decided, for now, to simply sort them as he would any other book. Later on, he might ask Cam to build him a special shelf or something. A display case, perhaps.

Satisfied, he gave the shelf another glance-over. A little dusty, they hadn’t been home in a while, but all in all, it was developing nicely. His gaze lingered on The Picture of Dorian Gray. He’d rebound it, managing to salvage the cover-art, and he smiled as he remembered Cam’s face as he outlined the plot.

He'd known that Cam would hate it, but he was comically repulsed.

A Tale of Two Cities had _baffled_ him. They’d crawled through the first book, one half-paragraph a time, and needed so many stops for explanations that the decision to give up was a mutual relief.

The Iliad was getting the same eager reception as The Odyssey, which was still confusing but delightful. And re-discovering the story alongside Cam was surprisingly enjoyable… maybe next they should read something new to both of them.

Maybe one of those random novels Cam had picked up. _One_ of them had to be interesting, if only statistically. And he should probably read the books in their library; they weren’t just decorations!

Arcade paused, halfway to reaching for a book. When had he started thinking of this as _their_ library? Of course, it was hardly _his_ , only thirteen of the books belonged to him. By virtue of ratios, it was more Cam’s than Arcade’s.

Especially since of those thirteen… _nine_ had been gifted from the man in question. Sure, Cam’s only interaction with the library was through Arcade; he just plonked the new books on the shelf in a stack, leaving Arcade to sort them in.

Mingling their collections together, without a second thought.

Arcade turned away from the shelf, trying to shake off the strange not-quite-bad but not entirely good feeling (guilty pleasure? Happy nausea?). ED-E was sitting on their couch (Cam’s, Cam had paid for it, but Arcade had picked it, but it was in their house, Cam’s house).

It had landed on Arcade’s favorite pillow. Cam had explained that it was his first sewing project; it was more trapezoidal than square and the stitches zig-zagged along but it was perfect firmness to lounge against.

…Another thing of Cam’s that Arcade had taken. He left the room quickly, heading for their bedroom. Where his blanket covered their bed, one of the few pieces here that Arcade had brought, and it twisted in his stomach, again. They didn’t need two blankets out on the road. Either they slept together, and Cam’s body heat was more than enough, or apart, and he used Cam’s on his turn. Cam’s blanket was thicker and more durable, so Arcade had suggested leaving his own here. Softer and better suited to being at home.

He hadn’t noticed how every _entangled_ their lifestyle had become. He hadn’t realized the unconscious enjoyment of that fact, but now the… tiredness, he was just tired, and it was making him _itchy_ with the knowledge. When had he _moved in_ with Cam? _All_ of his clothes were here, all of his books, all of his belongings. In this house. Cam’s house, except Cam called it theirs, and sometimes Arcade did too, in his head. Quietly, with a dusting of contentment, except for right now.

Arcade shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. It was _their_ house, because he and Cam were best friends (as incredibly childish as that sounded) and they’d been living together for _a while_ now. There was no need for him to be suddenly panicking about that fact. And no reason, either.

Of course it felt _nice_ to be so entrenched here; he hadn’t had a _home_ somewhere in… a long enough time to not bother thinking about. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs though, that was a better subject. The Followers had taken care of his physiological needs, providing safety and shelter, but living with Cam gave him significantly more. The freedom to decorate, security for his belongings, and the social needs of living with a… friend.

His enjoyment was scientifically backed and any anxiety was just residual bad feelings from past _issues_. And his general pessimism, he supposed, but on this particular subject, it could take a hike. Arcade _liked_ living here, liked the way his and Cam’s books looked on the shelf, and that was that.

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Sometime later, Arcade awoke to a _delicious_ smell. He was sniffing the air before his eyelids even opened. He grabbed his glasses and went off to follow his nose to the kitchen.

Cam was humming a hideously off-tune rendition of ‘I’ve Got Spurs’ (recognizable only by him mumbling ‘jingle jangle’ under his breath) and stirring a massive bowl. There was something roasting in the oven, something that smelled like rich, smoky meat, and his stomach rumbled.

Cam was focused enough on his task that Arcade could lean against the door jamb and watch him dance around with the bowl. He was _cute_ like this, entirely unselfconscious and unaware of Arcade watching him. He was even wearing that ridiculous apron Sunny had found, with the pink frills, and the back-tie was done in a perfect little bow.

Like a little housewife from pre-war advertisements, cheerful and eager to please, and Arcade could see the appeal from this angle, his still half-asleep mind running with the idea. Coming home from a hard day’s work to dinner ready on the table…Cam taking care of the house and then him taking care of Cam…when did his daydreams start taking cues from the 1950’s?

Arcade shook off the sensation he cautiously identified as domestic bliss and its strange effect on his subconscious. Once he was sure he’s buried any traces of anything other than pleasantly neutral, he stepped forward.

“What’re you making?”

Cam jumped, doing a rather well-coordinated 180 degree turn, and then relaxed at seeing him. The apron really was hilarious from the front, no wonder he’d gone on a weird pre-war daydream. Arcade still wasn’t sure if Sunny had meant it as a gag gift or not. Pastel blush-pink with white polka dots and ruffles along the neckline and pocket, and it belonged on a model in a cooking magazine.

But Cam _loved_ it and so it belonged on him too.

“Frosting! Trudy’s busy with the cake n’stuff, so she asked me to make the frosting and watch the roast.”

Arcade nodded, wondering if Cam was aware that he was both coated in sugar and had smears of frosting all over his face. And if there was any possibility of him getting some of that roast early.

“What time is the party?”

“Seven thirty.”

Arcade glanced at the wall and frowned; it was already 6:45. Cam followed his gaze and gasped.

“I gotta bring this to Trudy!”

“Maybe wash off first.” He advised and, at Cam’s confused look, reached up to swipe off some of the frosting off his cheek.

And before he thought better of it, he licked his finger clean. It was a beautifully rich chocolate and it just reinforced the emptiness in his belly.

Cam stared at him, mouth slightly agape, and he fought down the flush to smile instead, to pretend like the action was an intentional flirt rather than an unconscious impulse.

But he needn’t worry, Cam’s train of thought seemed to have skipped the track with catastrophic consequences. He could almost _hear_ the thoughts screaming to a halt followed by the violent crash.

“I’m going to go get dressed.”

He could feel Cam’s eyes on him as he walked back down to their bedroom and wondered if, maybe, he was going to be followed.

He tried not to be disappointed when he wasn’t.

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Arcade sipped his drink, watching people run in and out of the Saloon. He’d offered to help, of course, and been ordered to stay out of the way.

The culinary trio—Trudy, Duke, and Cam—had made up a full _banquet_. That beautiful roast was being shredded and bathed in sauce for some sort of pulled-bighorner-sandwich-thing and there was an assortment of finger foods from crisp cookies to veggie platters, and Trudy had made a very refreshing punch.

A secret blend of fruit juices and something fizzy and entirely non-alcoholic. Which given the last time he’d enjoyed punch, he was glad for.

Doc Mitchell strolled down and Arcade waved a hand as he came near.

“This where we’re hiding from Trudy?” He joked.

“And Duke. Cam’s too busy to remind them that we’re friendly.”

Doc chuckled as he settled into the chair opposite.

“Surprise parties always get a little tense in the last minutes.”

“It’s a surprise party?”

This was the first he’d heard of it and Doc laughed outright at the irony.

“Guess it is for you too, then. You think Sunny’d let us throw her this big of a ruckus?”

He gestured to the lanterns and flower garlands and the feast. Arcade supposed that the no-nonsense woman would probably object to having the literal whole town throwing her a party. Soon the rest of the townsfolk would be coming out, with their own dishes for the potluck.

Arcade’s reply was cut off by thundering feet and then Cam was bouncing in front of them.

“Does this taste right?”

A fork was practically thrown into Arcade’s face and he grabbed it before he wound up impaled. Cam had speared a hunk of meat on it and, hesitating for a brief second, he took a cautious bite.

“Duke said it needs more peppers, but I already put _lots_.”

It was sticky-sweet and smokey, with just a hint of spice in the back, and Arcade wanted more. He jammed the rest in, wanting to savor it but being too hungry, before answering.

“And Trudy said-”

“It’s perfect.” Arcade interrupted and Cam blinked. “Don’t change anything.”

“Are you sure?”

He took the fork back, frowning, and Arcade put all the emphasis he had on his reply.

“ _Perfect_.”

Cam’s cheeks colored but he nodded, heading back to the kitchen. Doc shook his head, chuckling to himself about something, and his smile only widened at Arcade’s look.

“Don’t think he even saw I was here. Nothing gets by him… Less you’re around.”

He lifted up a little, to ladle himself a glass from the punch bowl, and Arcade worked on figuring out literally any other conversation topic.

“He’s just worried about Sunny enjoying the party.”

Doc hummed at that, taking a sip of the sweet drink.

“If that’s how you’d like to think it, but I think we both know the truth of it.”

It’s not an unkind smile then, just one that reminded Arcade painfully of Daisy’s ‘it’s cute how you think you’re keeping secrets’ face. He made a mental note to never allow the two of them to meet, lest their parental omniscience combine.

Though, as much as it pained him… Arcade could benefit from some of that knowledge. That surge of feeling when he was watching Cam cook and also the stomach-rolling blend of pleasure and guilt at all the _gifts_ … He had no idea what to do with either of those situations or how to figure out the problem of Cam being in love with him.

Doc had a vested interested in Cam’s well-being _and_ knew the man longer. He could have valuable insight not just about the whole _issue_ but also into Cam’s mind.

The silence grew, not exactly comfortably, and Arcade struggled to find words, before he lost both his nerve and the opportunity.

“You look real serious there, son.” A gentle voice and Arcade did _not_ get a little choked up at being called that. “You got something you need to tell me?”

Alright, he got a little lump in his throat, but he was dealing with difficult emotions on a mostly empty stomach. He took a long drink and hoped it had enough sweetness to stabilize his blood sugar.

“Did Cam tell you about-”

His mouth went dry and he wished he were drinking water, not glorified liquid sugar. But Doc nodded, a knowing look in his eye.

“When he came back from the New Vegas the first time, he told me he met the love of his life.” He snorted. “Had me worried it was some dancer tricking him outta his money, but then he told me all about you. Well, ‘cept that you were a fella, but apparently he thought I’d be mad about that.”

Doc shook his head, but Arcade couldn’t react, too busy being startled by the notion of Cam calling him the ‘love of his life’.

“We barely spoke more than five minutes.” Arcade said, rubbing his temple.

It was both a relief and a headache to be talking about this, but at least he could complain about the logic—or lack thereof—without worrying about Cam’s feelings.

“Oh he mentioned that, said you didn’t seem too impressed with him. Took a while to pick him out of those dumps.”

There wasn’t any judgement in his tone there, but Arcade felt a little guilty all the same.

“But he still came _back_.” Doc nodded. “And claims that it was…”

He really can’t bring himself to say the words and he bit his tongue in annoyance at himself. But Doc swirled his drink, studying it.

“I think it’s easier for him, since he don’t worry about the proper order of things. My…” He paused, a decision obvious in his eyes even with him looking at his juice. “My wife was the same way. Took me going on a three-year walkabout to realize I was in love with her, but she knew since we were kids.”

Doc looked up at him now, a distant sadness obvious.

“Way I see it, it’s hard for folks like us, the kind who like to puzzle out problems, ‘cause we want to sort everything out, but they just go and keep making _new_ feelings without giving us time for the old ones.”

“I had just gotten used to the idea of there being more than friendship between us when he confessed.” Arcade agreed and Doc huffed a little laugh.

“Surprised he lasted as long as he did. He keeps secrets like a sieve holds water.”

The tension eased with the joke and Arcade breathed a little lighter. The implied advice wasn’t exactly helpful—he had no intention of leaving Cam for three days let alone three years—but the camaraderie, the sense of someone who intimately understood the struggle, definitely made him feel better.

He still had no idea what to do about Cam, but at least someone else agreed that the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing was ridiculous. Arcade could get caught up in a good romance story, sure, but that wasn’t how things worked in real life.

“How did you know?” Arcade asked and then clarified. “After those three years.”

“It’s like knowing the right moment to jump of a cliff, son. It just… happens.” He sipped his drink, obviously weighing his words. “But I think I’ve got an easy test for it. You ready?”

Arcade nodded, not entirely sure what he’s getting ready for.

“Don’t have to answer out loud, just think on the question, alright?” Doc waited for him to nod. “When something good happens, who’s the first person you tell?”

Cam, not even a question, but that’s just because he’d probably already _be_ there. They practically lived in each other’s shoes.

“After a bad day, who would you go to for comfort?”

Also Cam, but it wasn’t like Arcade had a lot of friends. Daisy would help him, of course, and Julie would offer to take him out for a drink to take his mind off it, but… Cam would listen to him complain and then give him a hug and ask what he wanted to do about it.

“Last one here, but it’s a doozy. If you got stranded on some island, with plenty of food and all the stuff necessary for survival, who would you want to be with you?”

That question was _definitely_ from some pre-war magazine meant for teenagers at sleepovers. The thought must read on his face because Doc Mitchell just spread his hands, not offended.

“Hey, I said it was an odd one. Take it serious though.”

Arcade shook his head, but listened. Cam would be the obvious choice from a survival perspective, except the question specifically said everything was taken care of. Maybe it should be reworded to something like ‘if you were the last person on earth, who would you want to be with?’

A terrifying notion… with an equally terrifying answer.

“Just something to think about. Don’t need to mean anything until you’re ready.”

They didn’t say anything more, both lost to their thoughts. The quiet was soothing, until Doc interrupted it, rapping his knuckles on the table.

“I reckon this chat is going to be a lot less private in a few, but I just want you to know you’re always welcome, Arcade. May not have expected a son at seventy-three, but family is a choice round here. My doors always open.”

He was _not_ going to tear up at a birthday party, never mind the fact that the party hadn’t started. He was an adult and going to swallow down that emotion while Doc politely turned towards the decorations.

He managed to get out a reasonably-clear ‘thank you’ and then, mercifully, Doc changed the subject to ask him about his research, just in time for the first few partygoers to start showing up.

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Sunny had been _very_ surprised. Martha had asked her for an escort up to Primm and they’d returned pretty close to exactly seven-thirty.

She had seen the way the town was lit up from the road, of course, but she still jumped, laughing, when everyone shouted ‘Happy Birthday’.

Cheyenne barked up a storm too, tail wagging, until Trudy tossed her a bone to get her to settle down.

The party was exactly the kind of raucous celebration that Arcade tried to avoid, but he stayed on the outskirts and really, it wasn’t that bad. There was dancing—Alice shrieking with laughter as Cam tossed her around—and plenty of food and good humor all around. Multiple people came over to Arcade’s table to chat about this or that; one person complaining good-naturedly about how vibrant the town was these days and asking if the rest of the Mojave was having a population boom.

Trudy sat with him for a while, taking a load off since she’d spent so much of the day cooking and organizing the party, and apparently she’d saved up all her conversational energy to drag Arcade into a discussion about the Followers and how come there weren’t that many in the Mojave and did he think they ought to spread out a bit more and also how was he getting on with Cam?

Arcade had thought Cam was loud singing ‘happy birthday’ to Stella, but he’s pretty sure Primm heard this rendition. Cheyenne joined in, howling delightedly. Trudy’s cake was delicious and the frosting just as good as that finger-swipe, and really, maybe Arcade should get over himself and accept that birthday parties were actually kind of fun.

Duke took Alice and Allan back to their house to go to sleep, quieting their complaints about having to go to bed ‘early’ (at ten pm) with the sharp yet meaningless grumble only a grandfather could use. Once the kids were gone, the booze came out. Arcade opted to risk a singular glass of spiked punch, reasoning that he’d seen how much alcohol Trudy poured in and it shouldn’t be at all like The King’s.

Cam got egged on into a drinking contest with Sunny. There were bets going around, Doc Mitchell reminding everyone that hangovers did not have a cure and they should probably be having water in between, which was summarily ignored.

Except, of course, by Cam, who obediently alternated between shots and water, and gotten himself immediately mocked for being a goody-two shoes.

Sunny won, but mostly because the amount of water Cam drank had him needing the bathroom well before they’d gotten farther than tipsy. But he still granted her the victory, with an exaggerated bow, and then somehow it had become half-past eleven and everyone needed to go to sleep.

Cam had gone for Arcade’s hand the moment after saying their goodbyes. He held on like he’d was drowning and it was the only thing to keep him afloat, squeezing just a bit tighter than was strictly comfortable.

“You alright?” Arcade asked after the fourth time Cam bumped into him.

He’d drunken exactly enough to have a pleasant warmth in his belly and nothing more, but Cam was a little stumbly and lot distracted by Arcade, apparently. The problem was that he kept turning his head to look at Arcade and that would make his body turn too and then he was bouncing off him like a moth into a lightbulb.

“Sorry. You just…”

They were just outside their house now and Arcade looked up at Cam, waiting for him to finish his thought.

But he would have to wait a long time, because he could practically hear Cam’s brain power down like a kicked computer once they made eye contact. He looked over Arcade like he couldn’t help himself, his tongue resting against his bottom lip because he’d gone to lick it but gotten distracted staring at Arcade.

He even leaned back a bit, to get the full look over Arcade’s body, and Arcade wasn’t sure it was funny or oddly arousing the way Cam was just standing in front of him, eating him up with his eyes. Definitely lingering around his middle, where his shirt was a bit tighter than he usually preferred, and down his legs.

It was the wanting stare of someone looking at a dancer, not a fully dressed doctor.

“Are you alright?” He repeated, once the moment had stretched long enough to be a little awkward.

Cam reached out to take his other hand, too, and then leaned back in, so they were just a few inches apart.

“Y’look so good.” Cam’s breath tickled over Arcade’s face. “Was too busy earlier. Didn’t see you.”

Arcade wasn’t wearing anything particularly interesting, he’d just decided to enjoy some of the nicer clothes that he didn’t wear often and forgone his usual lab coat. Plain pressed trousers and a button-up shirt, though Arcade had been lucky enough to find ones that fit him decently.

Or better than that, according to Cam, and he allowed himself to enjoy the compliment, to smile.

“That’s probably for the best, since you seem to be _very_ distracted now.”

Cam hummed, agreement, and then slid closer, to rest their foreheads together.

“Probably woulda dropped the cake or somethin’.” One hand shifted to rest on Arcade’s waist, a hot weight, while the other entwined their fingers. “Every time I see you, my thinking goes poof ‘n’ you’re everything.”

The corner of his mouth tilted and Arcade was glad he’d had something to drink because he thinks if Cam had called him ‘everything’ while he was sober, he’d have a heart attack.

But the night was cold and Cam was warm, even if they’re not quite touching yet, so he tugs Cam to be properly chest-to-chest, wrapping his arms around Cam’s middle.

“You seem to be thinking just fine right now.”

Cam’s hands went around him, one stroking up his back and the other just keeping them close, and Cam was almost definitely angling to kiss him. This was a _decidedly_ romantic moment, embracing one another under the clear Mojave stars in front of their home, and for the moment, he could enjoy it.

“Always easy to think about you.”

Cam was just looking at him though, staring into Arcade’s eyes like there was an answer if he just dove deep enough. It occurred to him, in a burst of clarity, that Cam was absolutely _not_ going to kiss him, because he’d promised Arcade as much time as he needed.

Which was, in his just-drunk-enough-to-be-calm state, absolute brahmin shit.

But he’d taken too long to come to that conclusion, because Cam slid forward to tuck into his neck, instead, and the moment was over. Cam hugged him and then Arcade was left cold, when Cam opened the door and led the way into their home.

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Their bedroom had two beds on either wall, originally, with two closets and two dressers. Arcade would have to assume that, pre-war, it was a shared room for siblings. Cam had explained that he rebuilt it exactly how he found it; he put beds where he’d cleaned out broken bedframes and fixed the closets and so on. At the time, Arcade had just assumed that Cam liked restoring the house, solving the ‘puzzle’, but now he wondered if Cam had just been glad to not have to figure out how he was supposed to furnish a house. Legion didn’t really have them.

But the shared bedroom worked well, back when they weren’t sleeping together. Now it just seemed silly. Last time they were home, Cam built them a very sturdy bedframe, for the spare room that they’d agreed should become the master bedroom. They’d already placed an order with Chet for a larger mattress, but he’d yet to find one.

In the meantime, Cam had the simpler solution of just pushing the beds together and putting a thick blanket on top, to ensure no one fell in the crack. Arcade had no idea what they’d do with this room once they switched, but that was a problem for another time.

Tonight’s problem was far more complex. Cam was off preparing for bed—brushing his teeth and washing his face and so on—and that left Arcade considering seduction. And ethics.

Cam was definitely a little tipsy, as was he, but clearly not to the point of foolishness. He’d resisted kissing Arcade, not even said it or anything else ‘inappropriate’. Arcade was reasonably sure he was just drunk enough to have him a little less sure on his feet.

Arcade changed out of the apparently very attractive clothes and into what passed for pajamas in the Mojave—thin sweatpants and a threadbare shirt—but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t his outfit that caught Cam’s interest.

Because again, with emphasis, it was _not_ exciting. Tan trousers and an ashy-blue shirt. It was the fabric equivalent of salted crackers and the notion of Cam being specifically attracted to it was laughable.

Arcade was acerbic and boring, not shy or falsely modest, and he was secure in the knowledge that he was a good-looking man who could have Cam’s attention with one well-timed look.

He’d tested that, actually, and gotten Cam to pour a beer down his front from across the room.

Twice.

But, regardless, the issue was not catching Cam’s attention or even arousing his interest. It was reassuring him that it would not be pressuring Arcade to go further than occasional heated looks. If anything, the sexual component of their relationship would be comforting; Arcade almost wished he'd gone ahead and made a pass when they first met. That way, at least, he wouldn’t be trying to figure out the emotional mess on top of the increasing tension between them.

Also, maybe he would’ve started to develop those feelings alongside Cam, instead of doing this relationship backwards.

But he hadn’t, because he was a judgmental jerk, and now here he was, trying to sort out the best way to seduce the most morally-stiff person he’d ever met besides himself.

Cam walked in, rubbing a towel on his face, and Arcade quickly rearranged himself on their bed. He slept on the left and Cam on the right; at his request, Cam had put the beds together such that Arcade’s side was facing out.

He found sleeping on the wall-side a little claustrophobic and Cam hadn’t minded. It did mean that Cam had to get into bed first though, as the footboard was too high to try and clamber over.

And an excellent addition to every morning was Arcade waking up to Cam so very gently stroking his hair or back, because Cam almost always woke before him. Really, the benefits of this situation were well worth the occasional jostling from Cam needing to sneak out to use the bathroom.

Arcade wasn’t doing any sort of ridiculous _pose_ , he was simply half-reclined in bed, leaning against the headboard. Relaxed and loose and waiting for Cam to drop the towel to flash that easy, small smile that Cam liked so much.

It was like clockwork. Or maybe dominos.

The towel lowered, Arcade smiled, and Cam flustered. He immediately averted his eyes down, but that was the trap: he had to slowly travel the length and breadth of Arcade’s body. Despite the cool air, and very much intentionally, Arcade was lying on top of the blankets, leaving himself entirely visible.

Once again, the outfit wasn’t exciting. Loose sweatpants and a shirt, nondescript not-gray, not-white, and well-worn. But Cam stared at him anyways, color rising in his cheeks, and _want_ obvious.

Warmth followed Cam’s gaze, Arcade’s body lighting up like it was a physical touch, and he shifted, drawing one knee up to prop an elbow and reset Cam’s eyes, make him start back again from the top to see how Arcade’s form moved.

“Are you coming,” He paused there, for Cam to refocus on his face, delighting inwardly at the pink tinge. “To bed?”

Cam flushed fully, ducking his head in a quick nod before he turned around. The dresser drawers were loud as he collected his bedclothes, changing quickly, almost jerkily. Normally, Arcade would politely look away, but he’d been… not, lately. After all, they were planning on being _together_ , and Cam was rarely shy, about his body at least. Especially since he slept in the barest minimum of ‘clothes’, just a pair of shorts and a tank-top regardless of the weather.

Arcade was pretty sure that the tank-top was for _his_ benefit. He wondered if he should tell Cam that he absolutely did _not_ mind him going shirtless, if he so wished.

Soon enough, Cam was standing beside him, looking adorably uncertain.

It took a few moments, of Arcade waiting meaningfully, for Cam to realize he wasn’t moving. Slowly, painfully slowly, he leaned over Arcade, clearly holding his breath, and the bed squeaked as his knees pressed in. Then, too quickly for Arcade to do more than blink, he tucked into a roll and somersaulted to his side of the bed.

An impressive feat of acrobatics. Arcade was both impressed and mildly annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t had the opportunity to steal a few touches like he’d planned.

Cam buried himself in the blankets, on the farthest edge of the bed and pressed against the wall. It was more like _burrowing_ , like some sort of spooked animal, and mumbling something under his breath.

Arcade watched for a few seconds. Rethought his approach.

“Are you talking to me?”

He knew that Cam wasn’t, but he suspected that Cam wasn’t even aware he was speaking aloud. It wouldn’t be the first time his internal monologue became external, though usually it was either song lyrics or counting stitches.

This time, it seemed to be something chanted, but it was too quiet for him to catch.

Cam froze and then turned to him, swallowing.

“No, just, uh. Just me.”

Arcade waited a few moments, for the cuddling to start, until it became clear that Cam planned on hiding in the closest thing the bed had to a corner.

Arcade was watched, warily, as he approached Cam. But his intentions were deemed pure when he slipped under the blankets as well, without doing anything too overt. Cam went willingly into Arcade’s arms, to rest his head against Arcade’s chest, and sling an arm across his middle.

He didn’t sigh, even if he was a little disappointed. Perhaps it was better to let the moment go, then. As much as he _wanted_ that kiss, it probably was a bad idea for them to do anything new when they’d been drinking.

Though Arcade had to wonder if he’d ever have his panic-response under control enough to stay calm when Cam invariably said something horrifyingly romantic.

He ran his hand up and down Cam’s back, getting a happy hum, and he let his eyes drift shut. Right now, he should enjoy the lingering warmth in his belly and the feeling of Cam’s body pressed against his own. Don’t borrow tomorrow’s worries and all that.

Minutes passed slowly, leisurely, and then Cam moved, shifting upwards. Arcade opened his eyes to look at him, intending to ask him where he thought he was going.

He got a smile, the soft one that made his heart hurt, and then Cam settled again, just higher up on his shoulder, so he could look at Arcade. His hand rested on Arcade’s hip, thumb swiping the bare skin where his shirt had ridden up.

Arcade had not known just how many nerve endings where there or that a brush of touch would make for such a strong sensation.

“Just wanted to see you.”

An unnecessary answer to the question Arcade hadn’t asked, but apparently thought hard enough for Cam to hear it.

“Haven’t gotten enough of a look yet?”

“Never.”

Really, romance authors had nothing on Cam. Arcade’s teasing mood shifted with the statement though, not really sure how to make fun of him when he was being so very genuine right now. Not without being an ass, at least, and Cam hated it when he made self-deprecating jokes.

They spent several minutes looking at each other. Maybe it was because he was so relaxed, or maybe Cam’s disinterest in social propriety was rubbing off, but it doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortably intense as a staring contest would normally be. It was just him and Cam, sharing a look, and wrapped up in each other.

There wasn’t anyone he’d rather be with. Given the option of anyone in the world to be trapped with, Arcade would choose Cam. The immediacy of the thought had scared him when Doc asked, but right now, it just felt right.


	23. Cacti and Other Prickly Menaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Cactus spines and their removal (non-graphic descriptions of a lot of spines on the face and chest), jealousy, sexualization of medical procedure (removing cactus spines), 
> 
> Author's note: it's pretty much going to be one chapter a day updates til the end! Eight more left! Whoo! Thank you all for your support <3 <3 <3

It had been a few weeks since the party Arcade hadn’t made a second attempt at seduction. Cam had been obviously reluctant and until he managed to work out why, he wasn’t particularly interested in being turned down or scaring the man.

Though he had the sneaking suspicion that the main issue continued to be Cam’s morals. Which was touching, in all honesty, how determined he was to not pressure Arcade in any way.

Besides the occasional looks of absolute adoration and devotion, that was. And the mumbled sweet nothings, a quiet background noise before Arcade woke fully and quiet enough he couldn’t _entirely_ catch them.

But, regardless, he allowed that night to end, with a gentle togetherness. They continued as they always had, to Primm and then Novac (Cam _delighted_ to find that Manny and Boone had indeed confessed and gotten together) and further along their usual path, to Freeside and Nellis and Westside, now on their way to turn around and do it all again in reverse.

One minute, Arcade was crafting cutting arguments for his next economic debate and the next, he was breaking up a loving embrace between Cam and a cactus.

Which brought them to a hastily-made camp several hours earlier than normal, tucked into a convenient cliff-face. It was pretty well-sheltered, which was good since neither of them were going to be able to focus on anything other than the slow removal of so very many cactus spines. As much as he was reluctant to trust ED-E, Arcade was glad that _something_ was keeping watch.

Cam did little more than wince as Arcade—as gently as he could—tugged yet another spine from his face. This one was the largest so far, nearly two inches, and had planted itself firmly in the meat of his cheek. But Cam stayed still, partially thanks to the hand holding his chin, while he wiggled it out.

Luckily, he’d caught himself before he fell fully into the cactus. The spines were predominantly on his chest, not his face. Arcade slowly examined him, making sure he didn’t miss any before he moved on.

“How did you even manage this?”

There were at least three dozen spines all embedded to varying degrees all over his torso. As happened way too often lately, Cam had left his armored jacket open, and they’d had no problem poking straight through the plain shirt he wore underneath. His arms had been spared, at least, but it was still a lot.

“Tripped.” Cam muttered.

Arcade snorted as he settled himself in. Some of them were big enough to just pluck out with his fingers, but others were fine, almost hair-like, and he had to get right up on Cam’s chest to see them.

“Bad time to be clumsy.”

Cam didn’t have a reply for that. He was normally surefooted though, skipping up cliffs like a bighorner, and Arcade chewed on the thought while he worked. Cam’s eyes were restless, flitting from Arcade’s face and hands to some point far off in the distance, and his fists were pressed firmly into his thighs.

Discomfort, obviously, but the redness of his cheeks suggested it wasn’t pain.

As did the sharp inhale when he leaned in, practically setting his head against Cam’s sternum, to get a better view on a stubborn spine. He didn’t move back once he removed it, just continued on like Cam’s breathing wasn’t noticeably arrhythmic. A subtle shiver went through him when Arcade’s hand pressed against his abdomen, feeling the hot skin.

For spines, of course.

Arcade leaned back, avoiding looking up—for now—because he suspected he already knew what he’d see. A flushed face, Cam either nibbling the much-abused bottom lip or sucking on it, eyes switching between want and worry. Both hands skimmed over Cam now, digging his fingers in a little to feel soft flesh yield into dense muscle.

It hadn’t occurred to him in the moment how suggestive their position was, with Arcade kneeling between Cam’s spread legs and touching his bared skin. He’d been more intent on tending to Cam’s newest injury than keeping to any sense of propriety, but what did those intentions matter when Cam was sitting on his own hands, nearly trembling?

Arcade _very much_ remembered that night at the Wrangler. Cam was grabby, clingy, in the moment, desperate to touch everything all at once. Arcade wondered if sitting on his hands was Cam’s attempt at self-restraint.

He rather liked the idea that Cam found him so alluring that only physically preventing it would keep Cam’s hands from reaching for him.

There weren’t any more spines, thankfully, but he doesn’t stop ‘checking over’ Cam’s skin. He shifted, his knees not enthused about this position even if the rest of him was growing on it, and looked up to find he’d been more than correct about the situation. Cam gnawed on his bottom lip like he intended to eat it, his cheeks glowing, and Arcade couldn’t help but smile at that. An ego boost he certainly didn’t need; Cam’s fascination was going to turn him into some sort of vain peacock if he didn’t keep that in check.

“Are you feeling alright?”

A nod that was more bobbing head than gesture, eyes shifty but definitely looking towards his mouth, and Arcade lifted one hand to his cheek. Cam leaned into it automatically and Arcade hummed, swiping away a pinprick of blood.

The sporadic red dots freckling over his skin should _not_ be attractive and yet Arcade had the oddest urge to kiss them. 

“You seem feverish.”

He let his voice go low, almost a murmur, and Cam’s eyes lidded. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, trying to rein in his desire to tease Cam for his immediate submission. That is, the desire to make fun of him; he had every intention of _teasing_.

Sure, Arcade had just been doing his duties as a doctor, but Cam had clearly _enjoyed_ the last twenty minutes of his attention. He supposed that spines weren’t anywhere near as painful as half of what Cam had experienced, but even still, _his_ arousal wouldn’t be up for it if he caught a face-full of cactus.

“What are you thinking about?”

Clearly something that had him turning this relatively chaste moment sexual and Arcade was more than curious about the specifics. Cam’s head turned, to brush his lips against Arcade’s palm, and his eyes fully closed.

“You.”

The breath tickled from between his fingers, the expected answer still sending a thrill up Arcade’s spine.

“Tell me.”

Not _quite_ an order, but decidedly not a question, and Cam shivered, a full-body reaction to two little words and Arcade didn’t bother hiding the smile now. ‘Devilish’, a previous partner had called it, but Cam’s eyes were still shut while he mouthed Arcade’s palm, whispering something incoherent.

Arcade waited, giving him a moment to realize that he was nowhere near audible, and then Cam moved. His head twisted, in a deliberate movement, and delicately caught Arcade’s index finger between his teeth. Not quite a bite, just holding him still while Cam’s tongue rasped along the length of the digit before shifting to suck it into his mouth.

He watched, transfixed, as Cam laved every millimeter of his finger, his mouth as hot and wet as he vaguely remembered. He pulled out, holding his breath at Cam’s whine, and then pressed two fingers against those wanting lips.

“You were thinking about this?”

Cam opened eagerly, moving with Arcade’s slow thrusts. His hands were still jammed under his thighs and he shifted, clearly wanting more but not taking it, and that was going directly to Arcade’s cock. This entirely voluntary—self-imposed, even—binding, the idea that Cam worked _himself_ into this state just daydreaming, and Cam initiating only to drop to his metaphoric knees for Arcade; all of it combined into a heady rush of arousal and pride and sheer possessiveness.

He doesn’t know if he should thank the universe for this gift or check him for some sort of Trojan-style trap.

Probably he should try and recapture the moment, before he let himself get lulled into trying to have Cam right here, in the open Mojave air. As much as his little head liked the idea of claiming him where anyone could see, let the world know that Cam was _his_ , the big one liked not getting shot at _in flagrante delicto_.

Cam didn’t give up his fingers without a fight, sucking hard and nipping after the tips, but a fist in his hair kept him from chasing. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth before opening his eyes, ducking his head in delayed shyness.

Arcade dragged his wet fingers down Cam’s cheek to his neck, resting them on his pulse-point. He didn’t count it, but it was certainly faster than it would be if they were innocently sitting around. Cam watched him, not even attempting to get away from his grip.

“I didn’t know cacti were that appealing.”

A joke, to lighten the tension between them, because Cam seemed to have no intention of doing anything beyond stare at him, chewing on his lip. He could practically _see_ the fantasy continuing on through Cam’s eyes.

But, unexpectedly, guilt flashed through, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Said I was thinking about you, not the cactus.” Cam mumbled.

Embarrassment crept into his tone and Arcade gave him a light tug.

“We’ve been a _lot_ closer than this without you getting _excited_.” Arcade pointed out and Cam’s mouth practically clicked shut. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you trip, either.”

Not while sober, at least, and certainly not walking along a well-worn hiking trail. And why had he even gotten so close to the cactus to trip into it?

Cam’s blush took on a new dimension, particularly with the way his eyes resolutely avoided Arcade’s.

“Did something have you _distracted_ while we were walking?”

Had he been fantasizing the whole time and literally walked into a cactus about it? Because that was hilarious… and dangerous. A cactus was probably the best thing for him to stumble into in that scenario.

Cam wasn’t holding his breath, but he was refusing to open his mouth, and Arcade let go of his hair to give him a look. Nothing chastising, just a serious one, one that couldn’t be avoided no matter how hard he tried (and he did). It only took a few minutes for him to crack.

“I was just… you were…” He _growled_ and Arcade blinked at the sound. “It’s—it’s stupid.” His head dropped and the anger dissipated as quickly as it came. “Distracted. Wasn’t looking where I was walking and-”

“And?” Arcade prompted, when Cam just frowned.

He sighed before continuing.

“Stupid. Thought maybe… If I got a _little_ hurt…”

Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose as his amusement died, annoyance taking over.

“You fell onto the cactus on purpose because…?”

“Wasn’t on purpose, I tripped, I just… didn’t move out of the way.”

“Why?”

“…Wanted you to look at me.”

He shook his head, sorting quickly through responses. Irritation at the needless injury, mild flattery that Cam would go that far just for his attention, concern for the same reason, then a bundle of more irritation, annoyance, and frustration.

“Why didn’t you just ask?”

Cam swallowed, still looking down at his lap.

“Didn’t want to bother you.”

“I assure you, having to disentangle you from a cactus is a lot more bothersome.”

If possible, his head dropped lower, and Arcade reached out to touch his cheek, lifting him back up. He sort of met Arcade’s eyes now, though not quite able to maintain the contact. A few seconds softened the exasperation, mellowing it back into the usual frustrated fondness he always seemed to have for Cam. Honestly, staying mad at him was difficult at the worst of times, and here he was all dejected just because Arcade wasn’t paying attention to him.

Definitely not the best of times, but certainly understandable. Possibly a little endearing, even. 

“What did you want that was so important that you impaled yourself on forty-six needles for?”

The flush was back at once, making an interesting blend of emotions with the still-lingering frown.

“It’s stupid.”

“And throwing yourself onto a cactus isn’t?”

Cam’s frown deepened, but he just sighed again.

“You _like_ him.”

His eyes went over Arcade’s shoulder now, off for something—well, someone—far away and apparently disliked enough to be scowled at, even though they weren’t here.

And even though Arcade had never seen Cam scowl.

“What?”

Arcade wasn’t sure if he was questioning the accusation or the fact that that was definitely a _jealous_ tone in Cam’s voice, but the return of the growl also warranted it.

“And he likes _you_.”

On one hand, the notion that Cam had been brooding about an encounter that Arcade had no idea about to the point that he’d worked himself into a jealous snit ending with a cactus dive was ridiculous for too many reasons to list.

On the other hand, Arcade didn’t really fare much better with jealousy and that was kind of… not sweet, far too manipulative for that, but it did spark something warm and definitely unhealthy in his stomach.

But then on a new, third hand, he had _no earthly clue_ what Cam was talking about.

“Did I go on a wild date that only you remember?”

That growl again, low in his throat, and then Cam crossed his arms. They flashed red, from being sat on so long, but the sulk was as obvious as it was out of character.

“Anderson.” He came pretty close to spitting the name and then looked at him, mouth hard. “ _Looking_ at you. ‘Specially when you were turned ‘round.”

Arcade raised an eyebrow. His relationship with the man had been rocked by the discovery that he was a murderer. But, oddly, Anderson had become friendlier by the revelation and, despite Arcade’s reservations, he had allowed himself to be convinced by the warm welcome and frank discussion.

And by the fact that Cam supervised their every interaction like some sort of giant, silent bodyguard. It was easy to feel secure with Cam holding up the wall. Yesterday—and continuing into this morning—they’d fallen into a fierce debate about potential overhauls to the current caps-based economy, arguing back and forth about everything from the possibility of meritocracy to the philosophy of bartering. Cam hadn’t minded staying an extra night so they could continue the discussion… or so Arcade had thought, given he’d just shrugged and continued staring down Anderson.

Apparently watching closely enough to notice something Arcade didn’t, though he wasn’t entirely sure he was willing to take Cam’s word for it, given the man’s track record with recognizing romantic advances.

“And that upset you?”

Obviously not what Cam was expecting him to say and he deflated, eyes dropping to the ground and arms shifting to be more like a hug than anything else.

“…Maybe.”

Arcade wasn’t sure if that counted as speaking, it was a whisper so quiet he barely caught it, and he snorted.

“You stabbed yourself with a cactus because you were upset that someone _might_ have been attracted to me?”

Cam didn’t reply and Arcade shook his head, trying to smother the affection that wanted to come out. Ridiculous, ridiculous man, sulking because he’d convinced himself of some nonsense that was definitely only part true, and Arcade was fully aware the complaint could be said about him as well.

It shouldn’t be reassuring. He should be explaining to Cam the proper way to handle jealousy, or the theory of it since he had yet to manage the trick himself, and remind him that people were going to look at them from time to time. That it was _okay_ for them to look.

He should _not_ be inwardly preening that Cam seemed ready to hate a man just for looking too long.

“I suppose it’s good that we’re both idiotically jealous.”

Cam glanced up at him, uncertain, and Arcade leaned forward, bracing himself on Cam's shoulder. His knees were going to ache forever after this.

“You thought I didn’t like Richards or Jimmy.” A small nod. “I hated that they even looked at you, let alone got to touch you.”

Cam’s arms wrapped around him, loose. Clear eyes, curious and wanting and a hundred other things that he didn’t have time to name, and he cupped Cam’s cheek.

“You can touch me.” Cam whispered.

Their foreheads bonked together, lightly, and then they were very close, Cam’s breath a distracting presence. Arcade’s hand had to slide back, to bury itself in getting-long-again hair.

“I intend to.” Cam’s arms tightened around him, pulling him a hair closer. “I thought I should remind you that I don’t share well either.”

He really didn’t like this side of himself, the jealous beast that clings and demands and ruins relationships, but knowing that Cam seemed to have the same affliction…

“Only you.” Cam agreed, with no hesitation. “And only me.”

Jimmy was going to be very disappointed by that, but Arcade was thrilled as he bit his way into Cam’s mouth, sealing the promise with a kiss that was perhaps a touch more aggressive than the situation called for.

But Cam just flopped backwards, yanking Arcade to lie atop him in a sudden lurch, and then what else could he do but enjoy the self-pinned man? Bask in the glow of mutual possession, have Cam’s strong hands firm and hot on his back while he did his best to kiss the senses out of him.

Not _exactly_ the way he thought they’d share their first kiss since the Wrangler, but he wasn’t going to complain. At least, not until the damned eye-bot sounded an alarm, that is, and they got to experience fighting a trio of fire-breathing geckos without a drop of blood in their brains.


	24. In The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: PTSD and implied flashback, implied nonsexual violence against women (Legion), consensual non-penetrative sex
> 
> hey remember when I said it would be daily updates til the end? hah. Sorry about that, life got busy and this chapter took its sweet goddamn time to write, but fingers crossed we can get this done!
> 
> And to those who commented, thank you so much for breathing life back into my muse. she's a fickle beast

They probably _should_ talk about it, but they don’t. It quickly became a thing that happened last week that sat in the air between them, silent but present. 

It wasn’t _awkward_ , per se, but it was not comfortable. Even Cam noticed; every time he went to touch Arcade first had the little ritual of reach out, hesitate, and then power through.

But it was easier to not talk about it. Arcade had wanted a little bit to contemplate the situation—and their apparently mutual possessiveness—because trying to have an emotional discussion with Cam when he wasn’t sure what he himself thought would definitely be terrible. 

Did he, caught up in the moment, agree to a relationship with Cam? Did he _want_ that? Well, he did, Cam was an amazing man and would be an amazing lover, and not just sexually. He was considerate and kind and devoted. Already with them just _friends_ , or whatever it would be called for when one person was in love and the other was deliberating, he was better than most of Arcade’s previous partners.

Not that it was a competition, of course. But, still. He’d never been _cared for_ like this before and he didn’t want it to stop, but that didn’t mean _he_ should be in a relationship with Cam. He had no actual interest in being some sort of god to be worshipped or at least not outside of the metaphorical bedroom.

But it had taken him a few days to determine that while he still wasn’t ready to commit to a full relationship—love was still not something he was really… comfortable with the idea of yet—he was definitely more than interested to indulge, assuming that Cam was still interested.

Which he would bring up… once he figured out how to. Because with each passing day, it felt strange that he hadn’t mentioned anything sooner.

Just like the whole ‘keeping the Enclave secret even though he trusted Cam’ problem, but now featuring sexual frustration.

What was he supposed to say? Or should he not say anything and simply pose suggestively on their bedroll or maybe even just _go for it_.

…Not that one, definitely not that one. But talking about it was bound to be an ordeal, especially since finding the correct way to broach the subject was impossible.

“Hey, remember that time we made out because you threw a temper tantrum into a cactus?”

Arcade sighed, crossing his arms. Just ahead, Cam was chatting with his friend, Veronica. They’d stopped at the Trading Post to offload some of their scavved materials and she’d mentioned that there was a caravan trader coming in tonight who specialized in pre-war items.

Cam hadn’t even asked if Arcade wanted to stay, he could read Arcade’s interest with just a glance. It warmed Arcade’s stomach, a little, that it wasn’t even something he had to ask for.

A prickling sensation at the back of his neck made him turn to see that strange child standing behind him, head cocked.

“Hello.” Arcade said, uncertainly. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mister. I’ve still got my medicine.”

He smiles, eyes distant, as he gestured at the bizarre headgear he wore. A few seconds passed and his eyes slid off Arcade to stare through Cam. It was a deep look, one that transcended the physical plane, and he had the odd urge to block his sight-line.

Before Arcade could fully dismiss it, the child was back to him. There was a little more awareness to his gaze now, more seated in this reality.

Arcade reminded himself that this was just a child in front of him. An abnormal one, certainly, but a boy nonetheless. He probably just wanted to spend some time with Cam, like all the children they’d met did. Cam always had some sweet treats to share and often a toy or two.

“I hope you’re doing fine today.” The child said, like a belated greeting.

“I am. I hope you are as well.”

The problem was the eyes. Too bright, too sharp. _Almost_ a run of the mill orphan, except for the knowledge not-quite-hidden in those eyes.

“Would you like to buy some thoughts?”

“What?”

“That’s what I sell. I can take off my medicine and do some thinking. People say it's real interesting. I don't know, ‘cause I never hear it. Some people say it’s a gift, some people say it’s not. I see a lot. I _think_ a lot.”

…The smile too, that was also not quite right. Too wide, with the lips pressed together in a thin line, and Arcade suppressed the shiver at the base of his spine.

Cam was friends with this child, he reminded himself, again. And he was clearly an orphan, on the streets, and selling whatever nonsense fortunes he needed to. Arcade could… entertain this. He should, the child needed the caps and he had some to spare, and there was no reason to be unsettled. 

“Alright.” Arcade said and the child’s smile was almost genuine then, as he collected the caps. “Tell me.”

“What do you want me to think about? I can think about You, Here, Everywhere…” He paused, tilting his head again, as though listening for something. “…Or _Him_.”

“Him?” Arcade repeated and the child turned to Cam.

Once again, he wasn’t actually looking at the man—laughing at something Veronica said—but a something through him. Or maybe _inside_.

Or maybe Arcade should never read anything within the realm of horror, given that he was trying to turn a pre-pubescent _child_ into a demon.

“Tell me about him.” Arcade said, feeling more than a little silly.

Next, he would consult a flower, or perhaps a fairy.

The child didn’t laugh, but this was his job, Arcade supposed. There wouldn’t be repeat customers if he mocked their belief. He simply closed his eyes and took off the headpiece. When he reopened them, Arcade took an instinctive step back.

His face was blank, slack of emotion, but the eyes were piercing, stabbing through Cam.

“Tapping through the caves, clicks in the shadows, but two to the head make everything dark. He gets up anyways, because he’s not done, no rest until the blood on his hands is washed fresh-red with the Bull.”

A pause, for a breath.

“Hiding the cards he was dealt, a gamble and a fear and a wish and he can’t get away, the deck’s missing a suit.”

He frowned and the breath stuck in Arcade’s throat when he turned to him. Every instinct had Arcade staying as still as possible, as though the child were an actual threat.

“Hearts fall from a lab coat pocket, running in parallel but they want to intersect. Forecast: A storm is brewing.”

The child’s eyes close and Arcade forced himself to breathe while he reaffixes his ‘medicine’.

“Sorry if I said anything weird.”

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Arcade couldn’t quite shake the strange ‘thoughts’ he’d bought, but luckily Cam was busy with Veronica, fawning over the random assortment of pre-war trinkets that the caravanners—a father and daughter team—had brought. Cam was particularly delighted by the dominoes.

Meanwhile, Arcade was trying to look over the books. Most were too damaged for him to bother with; he didn’t mind having to re-bind them but several were missing entire chapters. He was holding the two intact ones, trying to read the titles (they were badly burnt on the front), but kept getting distracted by Cam’s laughter.

“I think we have a bigger set, if you want.” The daughter offered and Cam nodded eagerly.

Arcade shook his head, but couldn’t find it in him to be anything but fondly amused. He refocused on the books, or at least tried to. In truth, he was still watching Cam play.

She turned to her father, who was arguing with their lead brahmin.

“Settle down now!” He growled, tapping the whip against his thigh impatiently.

The beast mooed, stamping at the ground, and the caravanner raised the whip.

“Dad?”

The man stood over the girl and the dominoes fell.

Before Arcade could blink, Cam was between the pair, a snarl on his face and blade pointed at the caravanner. He’d thrown the girl behind him, hard enough she’d fallen to the ground. ED-E beeped, as confused as Arcade was.

“Hey!” The caravanner shouted, taking a step towards Cam. “What the hell-”

“Cam!” Veronica interrupted, before Arcade could.

She carefully stepped around the scattered objects—Cam had knocked the table over in his haste—to stand at his side.

“This is _not_ how you play dominoes, you know.” She said, setting one hand on his arm.

Cam didn’t look at her, didn’t react, he only had eyes for the increasingly tense caravanner. But she wasn’t dissuaded, she slipped between the two with the ease of a dancer, facing Cam.

“Though, technically, you _did_ knock them over, you also took out everything else. I understand, it’s exciting playing a new game, but now we need to _put them away_.”

She gestured behind her, an impatient wave, and the caravanner blinked before scowling. He lowered the whip and then, with a sigh, tossed it to the ground.

“You too, Cam.” Finally his eyes fell to hers and she wagged a finger at him. “Come on now, we _all_ need to clean up.”

Confusion and then realization, he looked to his own hand to stare, horrified, at the blade. He swallowed. Carefully, slowly, he bent, to replace it to its hidden holster in his boot.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked and she reached out to pat his shoulder.

“It’s okay, you should’ve seen me the first time I played poker. I flipped a whole table!”

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Cam was quiet. Currently he was sitting next to the fire, staring at the twisted blade he kept in his boot, and Arcade watched him.

Veronica was _very_ good at de-escalation. In short order, she had the table set up, everything back in its proper place, and both father and daughter laughing about the whole event.

Arcade had opted to get Cam out of there, the man’s building upset as obvious as a ticking bomb. Veronica waved as they left, calling out a reminder to not be a stranger, and they retreated far enough away to have some privacy for their camp.

He’d bought the dominos, of course, but Cam hadn’t even noticed, eyes as distant as a dead man. They’d made camp in silence, Cam built a fire, and then he sat down to stare at his knife. It was cruel-looking, jagged and deadly sharp. He didn’t use it often, only when there was nothing else. A last choice, when his back was against the wall.

Arcade remembered grabbing it, that time with the deathclaw. Automatically collecting it along with everything else, not even really thinking about it, but maybe it should’ve stayed there. Maybe then Cam wouldn’t be staring now, looking at it so…

It wasn’t hate, or horror, or anything like that. It was resolve. Cold, but not numb, and Arcade didn’t like seeing Camillus ever, but particularly not in their camp.

“Are you okay?” Arcade asked.

Cam closed his eyes. He went through automatic motions, twirling the blade through the air with fluid, practiced ease.

“Just thinking.”

Arcade joined him at the campfire, sitting just far enough away to not be in Cam’s range. He knew without a doubt that Cam would never hurt him… intentionally.

“About?”

“Whips.”

Cam drove the blade into the ground and Arcade flinched, even though he tried not to. His eyes reopened, with the regret and pain that Arcade had come to expect from Cam remembering something.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Arcade asked and Cam looked away, towards the horizon line.

It was getting dark, night chasing the sunset, and his shoulders slumped.

“No.” He looked down at his lap. “Just wanna…”

His voice trailed off and, with the knife safely sheathed in the sand, Arcade decided it was safe enough to slide closer. Ever so lightly, he set a hand on Cam’s shoulder, going slow just in case it was unwanted.

Cam shuddered under his touch, but didn’t pull away. They sat in silence for a long, long while, before he spoke.

“She had long hair.” A soft voice.

“Who?”

Veronica’s hair was covered and the caravanner’s daughter’s hair was clipped short, to her scalp. Cam shrugged.

“The woman.” He looked down at the dirt, trailing a finger through the dry sand. “Long enough to cover me, when she told stories n’I was on her lap. Dark, it was like hiding.”

Arcade slid a little closer and Cam didn’t react. He only scratched at the ground with a frown and down-turned eyes.

“Stories?” He asks, eventually.

If Cam knew who she was, then he would have said so. But this seemed like an almost _positive_ memory, something actually _pleasant_ , and Arcade wanted to know about it not only for his own curiosity. But also so that Cam could hold onto something good from his past.

Arcade wasn’t an idiot though. If this memory was triggered from the whip, then this mystery woman likely met with an unfortunate fate.

“Like Odysseus, but made up.” He mumbles. “No books.”

“She made up stories for you?” Cam nodded. “What about?”

“Heroes.” Immediate answer. “Fighting for good n’saving people. Beating evil.”

The kinds of stories you tell a child. Arcade remembered hearing much the same when he was growing up, though his were from a book, not invented off the cuff. Bedtime stories were one of the few memories he had of his father that were entirely happy, until he grew “too old” to be wanting them. 

Cam reached up and took Arcade’s hand off his shoulder, to hold, instead. Arcade squeezed and got a whisper of a smile. The silence that fell was contemplative, comfortable, and it was only natural for Arcade to scoot closer to Cam, for the joined hands to become an arm wrapped around his shoulder, to lean together.

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Cam wasn’t asleep yet. He was just stroking Arcade’s back, still quiet. Arcade wasn’t particularly tired, though he knew that they had a long walk ahead of them and it would be best for them to get some sleep soon. Their camp was close enough to the 188 for it to be safe for a full night’s rest and they should be taking advantage of that fact.

But, instead, he’s pressed tight against Cam’s side, his head resting on Cam’s arm, while Cam contemplated the tent roof.

Dinner had pulled him out of his reverie and, as Arcade expected, the dominos earned him a grin, but now he was once again… not _somber_ , not quite that sad, but definitely subdued. Thoughtful.

Arcade shifted and Cam glanced down, surprised.

“You okay?” He nodded, hand stilling on Arcade’s side.

“Not tired.”

The corner of his mouth tilted, in a not-quite-there smile, and then Cam twisted to face Arcade, his other arm wrapping around Arcade for good measure. He bent his head to Arcade’s, bringing them entirely together, and it occurred to Arcade that this is pretty much the best possible opening he could get for that little discussion they needed to have. He had all of Cam’s focus, they were in a private and relatively secure location, and most importantly, Cam was already touching him. And might appreciate the distraction.

All it took was the slightest tilt and his lips brushed Cam’s, light as a feather. Cam gasped, but didn’t pull away. In fact, his arm tightened around Arcade’s back, keeping them together.

“‘Cade?”

A question, directly mouth-to-mouth, and Arcade answered it with a slightly firmer kiss. Still chaste, just a warm press, of his lips to Cam’s, and Arcade slid a hand up Cam’s back to bury in the mess of his hair, instead.

Cam pulls him closer, his hand hot against the small of Arcade’s back. He follows when Arcade pulls away, stealing another brief kiss.

“You can kiss me. If you want to.”

What a horrifically awkward thing to have to say, but Cam barely notices. He cups Arcade’s cheek and kisses him again. A much better use for mouths than clunky consent-giving.

It’s easy to lose track of time and counting, just fading into the sensations of Cam pulling him close, a warm body against his, and who-knows-how-many sweet kisses. Eventually though, it ends, with Arcade tucked into Cam’s chest, wrapped up in the usual embrace. Cam kisses the top of his head and, as a last thought before sleep claims him, he wonders what sort of affection-monster he’s unleashed upon himself. 

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The rainy season decided to start itself off a bit early this year. It being a desert, rain wasn’t exactly common, but when the Mojave wanted a storm, it didn’t hold back.

The clouds had been gathering all day, Cam frowning up at the darkening sky, but they kept on going.

They ran through the beating rain, hunched over and ED-E hovering as low to the ground as possible. Thunder rumbled dangerously and Arcade tightened his grip on Cam’s hand, gritting his teeth.

The water made his glasses useless and while intellectually he trusted Cam to lead him well, he hated being helpless.

But Cam knew where he was going, they’d been this way a dozen times before, and they manage to reach the shack without getting hit by lightning. They’ll continue on to Novac tomorrow, when the storm blew over.

Cam shut the door behind him with a long exhale, a whistling ‘whew’, and ED-E shook itself like a dog, chirping irritably.

“Sorry, Eddie. Thought we could make it.”

A series of rapid-fire blips.

“You were right.”

Robots couldn’t huff, especially ones that lacked mouths, so it rumbled its engines.

Arcade barely paid attention to the conversation, busy smearing water around on his glasses as he tried to clean them with a sodden cloth.

“Do you have anything dry?” He asked, looking up irritably.

Cam was a blurry smudge in the distance, an indistinct brown against the shack’s gray.

He knelt and then started digging through his pack, mumbling under his breath.

“I think I have… here!”

Arcade held out his hand and Cam gave him one of his spare eyeglass cloths. It was a little damp, but it did its job and he relaxed once he could see again. Cam was still on his knees, frowning as he looked around his bag.

“Everything’s wet.” He said, before Arcade could ask, and then he looked up. “S’gonna be cold soon.”

It was already cool; fall brought the average temperature down nearly twenty degrees and the storm dropped it even lower. And they were both soaked to the bone.

Arcade unshouldered his own bag. It was a good thing he’d decided to leave his books at home, because just like Cam’s, his belongings ranged from damp to wet. Paranoia had his notes in a waterproofed envelope, but his spare clothes were going to need several hours of sitting out to dry.

“Strip down. If we stay in wet clothes much longer, we’ll go hypothermic.”

Cam was already on it, dropping his drenched clothes to the ground with a _splat_. Arcade shivered as he peeled off his shirt, skin prickling into goosebumps.

Almost all of his clean clothes were wet, but he managed to find a pair of boxers that were just damp. He pulled them on and then turned to Cam, who had the same problem.

“Didn’t think it’d rain that hard.” Cam sighed.

He’d neatly arranged his wet clothes on the ground before grabbing a pair of his own boxers with a sigh, wrinkling his nose as the cold cloth clung to his skin.

Arcade would bet a shiny cap he’d left his bag untied again, given how much more sodden Cam’s clothes seemed to be compared to his own.

“I’ll get everything hung up, if you get the fire going. We’re going to need it.” Arcade gestured at their general nudity and Cam nodded.

They worked in silence. Cam got a fire lit and burning merrily and then joined Arcade in getting their clothes hung. Cam’s armor and Arcade’s lab coat went next to the fireplace, to hopefully speed their drying up, and the rest were just arranged around the room.

Luckily, their bedroll was wrapped in a plastic tarp, tied underneath Cam’s bag, and had thus been spared the flood. ED-E found some moth-eaten sheets under a thick layer of sandy dust and Arcade’s hatred of cold won over his dislike of grime, so now he was wrapped up like a mummy and watching Cam cook from the safety of the ‘bed’. Which was a straw-mattress on the ground, with their bedroll on top.

It was almost nice, actually. The rolling thunder above them, the cozy atmosphere, watching Cam work practically naked. He didn’t notice the cold and he was also standing directly in front of the fireplace to make their dinner.

They’d stayed in this shack before, a few times now. Others used it too, but there seemed to be an unspoken rule to leave certain things behind, like the cooking cauldron. A transitory shack, useful for a short respite from the Mojave, and Arcade was a little fond of it. Even if he’d rather be in their room at Novac.

Or at least clothed. Cam might be content to walk around in nothing but his shorts, but Arcade wasn’t, certainly not in the crisp-going-cold air. He was very eager for Cam to finish making dinner and not just because he was hungry; he wanted to steal some body heat.

…A little more directly than he ever had before, now that he thought about it. Funny, it hadn’t occurred to him until this exact moment that they were going to be spending the night in their underwear and they were going to _have_ to cuddle. Or at least Arcade was, the thin sheets were barely enough to keep him warm now and it was only dusk.

The night might be about to get very _tense_ once it was time to lie down. Kissing and some lingering touches were a new—and very enjoyable—addition to their evenings, but Arcade had specifically not pushed Cam farther. It was hard to tell, with Cam, how far he was comfortable going. Where the boundaries of their growing relationship lied.

Arcade was quite happy with where they were at, as much he was interested in going farther. He was eager to get a _proper_ look at Cam outside of medical necessity, but he also wanted to see if Cam would make the next step there, too. Surprise him, again.

Maybe it was ego talking, but Arcade liked how _needy_ Cam had been, after his little jealous temper-tantrum. He wouldn’t go and do something as manipulative as flirt with Anderson to trigger it, but he had the vague wonder if perhaps Cam just needed a slower dip into intimacy. That after enough soft kisses and strokes down his back, he’d be coaxed into that same state of asking _properly_ for what he wanted.

So, his hands stayed decidedly above the belt and over clothes, and they would, as long as Cam’s did.

But they had been busy lately, and even if they’d had time, they hadn’t been anywhere safe or private enough for those kinds of activities. They had been running errands down at the Mojave Outpost and exploring until they found (and dealt with) the _mess_ that was Camp Searchlight… Then that crashed vertibird and Cam’s endless curiosity really rounded out those anxiety-fueled days.

But now they had not just a moment, but a _night_. Alone. Together.

Well, with ED-E, but a quick whisper and it would power down and let them have some privacy.

“Dinner!”

Arcade sat up automatically and Cam walked towards him, intent in his gaze… for the soup. His tongue poked out a little as he moved slow, careful not to spill the over-full bowls.

Adorable, he thought, but didn’t share. He didn’t want Cam to trip, after all.

He took one with a muttered thanks and Cam climbed into the bed with him. They didn’t speak, too busy filling their bellies. Arcade took a moment to, again, be delighted about how _good_ of a cook Cam was.

It was a thick, hearty soup, more like a stew or perhaps some sort of savory porridge, given the amount of rice, and bits of shredded, preserved meat. It was _exactly_ what he wanted after such a rough week and on a cold night.

If Cam wanted to, he could hang up his armor and just be a cook. Arcade would _happily_ go for his every meal.

Cam finished first and set aside his bowl with a content sigh, scooting back to lean against the shack wall. His eyes shut, relaxation in every pore of his body, and Arcade’s spoon slowed as he took in the _picture_ in front of him.

The firelight was close enough to cast a golden glow to his tanned skin, interesting shadows flickering across him. His head was tilted back, exposing the long line of throat, and Arcade trailed slowly down it.

He hadn’t quite finished his dinner, but he wasn’t hungry for it anymore.

Seducing Cam didn’t really need to be an art. Arcade could probably just wave a hand and inform him that it was kissing time. But really, foreplay started well before anyone was in a bed, and here they were already mostly naked.

Cam was hesitant always, at first, wary of his welcome. Arcade wasn’t sure if it was a self-esteem issue or a moral one, but Cam warmed up quickly enough that he wasn’t overly concerned. He also waited for Arcade to start their little ‘sessions’, with a touch or a meaningful look.

Barring the incident with the cactus, of course, which apparently used up all of Cam’s initiative.

He set his soup-warmed hand on Cam’s thigh, right at the boundary of shorts and skin. His thumb swiped a slow arc, teasing along that edge.

If Cam were just an attractive stranger, Arcade would pay him a compliment, something that hinted towards sexuality but left him plausible deniability, just in case. Perhaps about a quip about his cooking skills and how delicious he looked right now.

Of course, Cam was no stranger. If he tried that, then Cam would pick up on the implication but not the meaning, turn purple, and attempt to escape with all the bellowing grace of a spooked brahmin.

He also knew that while Cam was definitely aware of his touch, that he was holding his breath and staying very still, he wouldn’t do a damn thing until Arcade told him it was alright.

But first, he wondered what Cam thought of the moment, of Arcade’s eyes on his body, of the hand on his bare skin. Was he deliberating on what Arcade meant by it? Did he feel the electric tension in the room? Normally they would start in their bedroll, sandwiched between cuddling, but here they were still sitting up.

Their kisses were slow things, languid and leisurely, an extension of the comfortable way they had around each other. This was already hotter, a deeper urge than those times, even though they were barely touching.

Cam’s hand covered his. It didn’t stop him, just added a new weight to the touch, and Arcade took it as a partial consent. Enough to lift Cam’s hand, take it in his, and pull him closer.

“Come here.”

Not an order, not yet, and Cam bit his lip. He didn’t move, for a minute, and Arcade waited to see what he’d do.

“Eddie, please go to sleep.”

His eyes were still shut, so Arcade let himself grin. The robot made the series of beeps Arcade had determined meant something along the lines of assent. A few seconds later, the power-down tone sounded through the room, and Cam opened his eyes.

It occurred to Arcade that Cam had not once looked at him since they entered the shack. The moment they stripped down, he’d kept his eyes anywhere but Arcade. Even when they were hanging their clothes, he’d gone to the other side of the room, physically turning himself away.

Arcade’s mouth went dry at the desire already present. They held his for just a bare second before dropping to his chest, where the sheets had fallen away when he moved. Arcade lifted their still-joined hands and pressed Cam’s hand against his sternum.

“You don’t have to _just_ look.”

His fingers spread out, to press delicately against Arcade’s chest, and Cam wet his lips. His eyes flicked between Arcade’s and the point of contact, uncertain but wanting.

“Go on.” Arcade urged, softly, and those eyes fell once more.

Cam’s hand slid hotly over Arcade’s skin, making him bite back a hiss. The air had already turned cold enough to leave him a little numb with the exposure; Cam’s hand nearly burned in comparison.

He had to lie back a bit, propped on his elbow, to give Cam the access, and Cam pushed to his knees, to get closer. He watched as Cam’s free hand flexed against his own thigh, enjoying the look of utter concentration on Cam’s face.

Cam touched him lightly at first and then firmer, feeling down his chest from the pectoral to his abdomen. He wasn’t as muscled as Cam, but he cut a decent enough figure, and Cam clearly liked the look of him, if the tent in his shorts was any indication.

He grew brave—or perhaps his desire finally overpowered his resolve—and then there were two hands on Arcade, skimming over his skin. Light fingers circled his nipple and he couldn’t help the catch in his throat; Cam’s eyes met his, concern obvious.

“Just sensitive. Keep going.”

His thumb brushed over Arcade’s nipple and then pressed against it, watching Arcade with something like awe. Arcade held his gaze until he pinched and his eyes shut with a gasp.

He’d knew they were a sensitive spot for him, but it always took him by surprise just how quickly his body responded. 

Cam breathed out an _oh_ and then it was a two-handed assault, tweaking and pinching and occasionally tugging, an unrelenting attack that didn’t give Arcade a chance to do more than pant, heat rolling through him.

“S-slow down.” Arcade hissed, fisting the sheets.

Cam stopped at once, hands flying away, and Arcade opened his eyes. Cam was wide-eyed, fear obvious.

“Just a little too much.” He said, before Cam worked himself into a panic.

He pushed himself up properly again and Cam waited, his hands pressing into his thighs once more. Arcade cupped his cheek and he bit his lip, eyes struggling to stay with Arcade’s but flicking to his mouth.

“Is this okay?”

If they needed to stop, better to stop _here_. Cam’s eyes closed, briefly. 

“Need you so bad.”

A bare whisper, a confession that had red crawling up his neck, and Arcade drew him closer, lifting to his own knees to meet him halfway.

Hot hands on his waist, squeezing gently, and Cam’s eyes were molten when they reopened. Adoring, as they so often were, but also lust-filled, nearly black with his dilated pupils.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

A warning, a second check-in, and Cam’s eyes widened before quickly closing again. His hands pulled slightly at Arcade, impatient. Arcade smiled as he leaned in, first bringing them fully together and drawing a gasp from Cam just for that. Arcade’s hand slid to the nape of Cam’s neck, keeping him close, and ever-so-lightly bringing their lips together.

It’s not like it was their first kiss, but it definitely was their most tension-filled one. Slow, sensuous, one hand ensuring no escape and the other stroking down Cam’s back, nails dragging just a little against his spine. Ease him into the idea, before Arcade pushed them past their previous stopping points. Cam shivered and wrapped around him fully, holding him tight while Arcade took his mouth. A hint of tongue and Cam opened to him willingly, a soft noise escaping.

Cam was already hard, pressing a thick line against his stomach, and he thrilled at the fast response. Of course, Cam seemed highly reactive to Arcade; just getting the permission to touch Arcade had had him twitching in his shorts.

Which was a breathtaking power-rush for Arcade, to have such a strong effect. He wove his fingers through Cam’s hair and then tugged, pulling him away from his lips and smirking at the whine.

Before Cam could voice the complaint, he trailed kisses down his jawline to his neck, feeling Cam’s pulse against his lips. He licked the spot before biting it, intending to make his mark. He’d held back before, resisted the urge to claim Cam like this; it was too _overt_ compared to their relatively chaste cuddle-kissing.

“Yes.” Cam gasped, twisting his head into Arcade’s pull, exposing himself more. “Please.”

Arcade would grin, but he was busy ensuring that there was a very prominent hickey here, declaring his claim. He’d intended just _one_ , but Cam’s whimper tempted him to more.

From an aesthetic perspective, he loved the idea of collars, of _ownership_ , but from a humane one, he would never bring that up to a lover. Particularly one who’d escaped Legion.

But a collar of bites, of kisses sucked into skin while Cam shuddered against his body, that was just as good. Better, really, unable to be removed, and putting it on was as delightful as seeing it ‘worn’.

Cam’s hands were grabbing now, holding desperately like Arcade was the only lifeline in a storm, and Arcade wasn’t so much ‘forcing’ Cam’s head back as guiding it. The slightest tug had him moving, eagerly obedient. Scraping his teeth along the reddened skin made Cam hiss and when he soothed with his tongue, he tasted blood.

“‘Cade…” Cam whined as his teeth sunk in again.

He’d not intended to get that vicious with his bites, but Cam’s reaction urged him on. It was hard to feel guilty with the erection pressed against his stomach and the heat pooling in his belly, though. He pulled away, blowing cool air over the heated skin, and Cam shivered.

“Yes?”

It took Cam a moment to pull his eyes open once more and Arcade was tempted to go back to darkening his marks, ensuring he’d have at least a few days of enjoying them

“Can I…” His voice died, cheeks red like he’d been struck, and he bit his lower lip.

Arcade leaned back in, to brush kisses along his jawline, savoring the way Cam’s breath caught.

“Ask and you shall receive.” He purred, trailing his hand down Cam’s back. “What do you want?”

“Kiss me?” A question, or a beg. “Please.”

A _plea_ , then, and Arcade smiled as he made his way towards Cam’s lips.

“So polite.”

He didn’t wait for Cam’s response, just kissed him. He pushed into Cam’s body as he nipped at his lips, getting another gasp.

But his knees were starting to hurt and there was no _need_ for them to be perched like this, not when they were in a perfectly serviceable bed. So Arcade pulled away, enjoying the way Cam tried to follow, but couldn’t.

Hair was _such_ a convenient hand-hold. He let go, soothing the hair he’d been gripping, and Cam watched him, waiting for his orders.

“Lay down for me.”

Cam hesitated, arms tightening around him, but then he nodded. He let Arcade go and shifted, lying down in front of him.

Arcade took the moment to breathe, to settle his racing heart. Cam was watching him, with a dizzying blend of emotions in his eyes, and staying so still. His hands twitched before he pressed them against the bed, forcing himself to wait, and Arcade unwound himself from the sheets.

He wasn’t as cold anymore, not with the lust burning in his veins and the body he’d been rubbing against. Besides, he preferred to do the tangling, not get stuck himself.

Cam’s legs spread without him asking, inviting Arcade between. He guided them around his waist, stroking the firm muscle, and Cam wet his lips.

But still, his hands stayed put. Waiting.

“Look at you.” Arcade said, approvingly. “Being patient.”

Cam’s face was already too red to blush further and it wasn’t possible to duck when he was lying down, so he just dropped Arcade’s eyes.

Arcade bent down, bracing himself on one arm, and slid a hand up Cam’s torso. He felt the way softness gave way to muscle, the smooth skin interspersed with rough scars. His hand finished its journey on Cam’s cheek, thumb swiping over the red bottom lip.

Cam opened for him and he slid in, remembering the first time he’d done this. The slick heat of Cam’s mouth, the gentle sucking and then tongue. The way Cam’s eyes glazed over, trusting, content.

Even better this time, without the effect of alcohol. Cam’s willing submission was entirely for Arcade; every flush of pleasure belonged to him and him alone.

“So good for me.”

But he doesn’t want to play with Cam’s mouth right now (or well, he does), it’s getting too cold without the skin-on-skin contact. Arcade wiped his wet thumb on Cam’s cheek and then grabbed the sheet. He draped it around himself and then took his place over Cam.

Cam braced him, hands leaping to his sides, and Arcade made himself comfortable. The cloth was cool on his back, but Cam was like cuddling a heater. Just, one with an erection.

Arcade kissed him, stroking a hand down the length of Cam’s body. Next time, he’d have to do this when he could linger, enjoy every step of Cam’s arousal and study his body properly. But for now, hidden touches below the sheets would be more than enough.

“Can I-” Cam mumbled into Arcade’s mouth.

“Touch me.”

Another time, he would play with Cam’s submission, tease the man with verbal bindings. Make him endure Arcade’s touch without getting to return it, leave him trapped by nothing more than an order to stay still and see how long Cam could manage it.

But for now, for this first time, he just wanted Cam.

Hands burnt down Arcade’s spine. They ran everywhere, palming his backside and then scratching down his back. Arcade slid a little and that lined everything up perfectly so that Cam’s erection pressed against his own.

Which prompted Arcade to grind down, to bite at Cam’s lips while they frotted, half-clothed, in a quickly-heating bed. The feeling of them together was enough for a few minutes before he was reaching between them, flicking his fingers under Cam’s waistband.

Only for Cam to catch his wrist, preventing him from going under.

“Wait.”

Arcade paused and then pulled away. Cam had gone still under him and he swallowed back worry. Cam’s eyes closed while he took a few deep breaths.

“What’s wrong?”

Cam wet his lips and then reopened his eyes. Still just as lust-filled as before, but with a strange bit of guilt, too.

“I… can’t.” The guilt grew as he paused. “This, I’m… not like Alex.”

Arcade sighed, slipping off of Cam to lie beside him, instead. He had to admit, this was a little… fast. Natural, for him; his past relationships were slow buildups until mutual attraction was verified and then consummated. It wasn’t a surprise that Cam wasn’t like that, though it was disappointing.

And the fact that Cam even _thinking_ about Richards right now had him fighting a scowl off his face.

Cam let him go, folding his hands on his stomach. Arcade rolled onto his side, to watch him. He made himself move on from that annoyance, focusing on adjusting the blankets so they both stayed covered.

“Why not?” He asked, finally, and Cam swallowed.

“I can’t be like… it can’t be like after.” His eyes closed. “After was always… bad.”

Arcade quietly added Cam’s current expression to his running list of ‘reasons he doesn’t like Richards’. The list had been only two points before this, but he’s ready for a fourth now.

“What happened?”

He reached out, setting his hand on top of Cam’s.

“Nothing.” A sigh and then Cam’s eyes on his. “It was _casual_.”

Cam sounded out the word, like it was a foreign language, and Arcade nodded. Cam was a sap, to the stickiest degree; he should have realized that Richard’s easy-breezy attitude was one-sided. Cam took his hand and lifted it to his cheek, pressing it to his face.

“Sorry.”

He wouldn’t look at Arcade, wouldn’t meet his eyes, so Arcade just pats his cheek.

“As much as I would enjoy going further, I would never pressure you into it. If you want to stop here, then here we will stop.”

Privately, he wished it were possible to slip away for a few minutes to, ah, attend to himself, but his body will have to just cool down on its own. Cam moved his hand to cover his eyes and Arcade let him, but didn’t stop watching.

He wondered what, exactly, happened between Cam and Richards. Not the sex—he had no interest in the undoubtedly half-enjoyable rushed activities they’d managed—but after. Given Cam’s lingering hurt, he suspected that it involved little more than a washcloth and a hasty goodbye.

“I would like to add, however, that I am _not_ like Richards.” Cam lifted Arcade’s hand slightly, enough to peek at him. “I can assure you, I am not interested us having _casual_ sex.”

Cam replaced his hand, re-hiding himself.

“What do you want?”

He was uncertain, evident both in voice and in the fact that he was currently using Arcade’s hand to hide from Arcade.

Arcade considered his options, trying to think past his own carnal desires or at least to word them in a non-pressuring way. But for such a sentimental man, he would probably be more interested in hearing about Arcade’s _feelings_ rather than the sexually-charged discussion that Arcade would prefer.

He had yet to find a good alternative to the phrase ‘dirty talk’.

“Do you want to hear how _good_ you looked under me?” He asked and Cam bit his lip. “But if you meant what I want for us, then… You are still my best friend. I’ve enjoyed deepening that, adding physical intimacy, but I never want to hurt you.”

The answer seemed to startle Cam; he twisted to look fully at Arcade, eyes searching.

“So…” Arcade waited for him, taking his hand back since Cam didn’t need it to hide anymore. “It’s different? Not casual?”

Arcade raised his eyebrows, but Cam didn’t clarify further.

“I have had casual relationships in the past. I have _never_ gone on a months-long, indefinite journey back and forth the Mojave with _anyone_. In fact, I don’t know anyone besides you who I would be willing to tolerate for half as long as we spend together.”

Cam still looked bewildered by the notion and Arcade shook his head.

“Cam, we _live_ together. I may not be… My feelings for you may not be as developed as yours are, but I promise, our relationship is in no way _casual_.”

Cam’s mouth opened and closed and then, suddenly, he was chest to chest with Arcade, head dipping to be as close as possible. Arcade didn’t even have time to blink before Cam’s hand was on his cheek, lifting him to bring their foreheads together.

“You like me?” He asked and Arcade bit back the desire to kick one of them.

He sounded too unsure, too hopeful yet afraid, for Arcade to be annoyed at him. Even though he had _no_ idea how Cam had missed this particular memo.

“Quite a bit.” Arcade said, instead.

“Can I kiss you?”

Arcade didn’t bother answering in favor of brushing their lips together and Cam pressed into him immediately. He had assumed that it would be a chaste embrace, of confirming affection, and instead he got Cam’s tongue in his mouth, an inexpert but enthusiastic kiss that would’ve taken his breath away had he gotten the opportunity to get one in the first place. It was his turn, apparently, to be held still, to let Cam take what he wanted.

Cam pulled back a half-inch and Arcade took a few deep breaths, trying to ease the burning in his lungs without revealing how affected he had been. Heat burned in his cheeks and he opened his eyes to see Cam looking at him, wanting and adoring, and there was no oxygen in his brain right now.

“Wow.” He said, intelligently, and felt himself cringe at the sudden regression into his teenaged self’s first kiss.

Cam was close enough that Arcade could feel his breath on his face and, in hopes of destroying the memory of his previous statement, Arcade went in for a second kiss. Cam’s hand cradled the back of his neck and he was drawn closer still, until there was nothing between them. Except the too-tight boxers.

There was a marked difference to the kisses of ten minutes ago. Cam touched him, in all the same places as before, but it just… felt _better_. His hand lingered on Arcade’s backside, appreciating the gentle curve, and nails scratched pleasantly at his scalp while they kissed. Messy, wet, with a little more tongue than Arcade would normally prefer, but still dizzyingly good.

Cam sighed his name into his mouth, then pushed into him, to lave sweet kisses down his neck, and Arcade struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Gett-getting mixed signals here.” Arcade said, in a normal, modulated tone, and was in no way whiny or breathy or anything of the sort.

“Like the way you taste.” Cam murmured, the words tickling up Arcade’s throat.

He couldn’t help the huff of laughter, letting his eyes shut again while Cam held his hips still, to rock gently together. His arousal had barely started to tone down during the serious talk and it was back in full force now, with Cam’s definitely more _eager_ attentions.

But Arcade had to draw the line when Cam nibbled at his neck and gave the man a shove. Cam rolled onto his back willingly, a hint of a worried frown when Arcade didn’t close the distance between them.

If three inches could be called ‘distance’.

“I wouldn’t say I’m lacking in willpower, but it’s a little _hard_ to stop if you’re going to come at me like that.” Arcade said and Cam blinked.

“But you like me?”

“Obviously?”

“I really like you.”

If his eyebrows went any higher, they would be exiting his face, but at the same time, a new flush went through him at the statement. Cam just smiled at him, offering over his hand, and he took it.

Which left them lying in bed, holding hands, and trying to act like they weren’t massively aroused in their underwear. Or at least Arcade was, Cam was in no way attempting to hide anything, not his erection nor the fact that he was staring at Arcade like he was the newest wonder of the world. It was tolerable for all of three seconds before he had to look away.

“I don’t mean to go over previously established boundaries, but does saying out loud that we like one another mean that you _do_ want to continue on or…?”

Cam squeezed his hand and though the smile left his mouth, his eyes were still shining with it.

“I like kissing you, too. Can I hold you again? Cuddle? Kiss? And,” He paused, the excited questioning ending as suddenly as it began. “I, um. I want,” A swallow and his eyes slid away from Arcade before he took a deep breath. “Not uh… I wanna touch and kiss and taste, but not more unless I’m gonna be _yours_.”

That was a record-breaking amount of words from Cam all at once and Arcade tried to process it and not just idle, shocked and delighted, on the idea of Cam being _his_.

He let go of Cam’s hand to slide closer, to rest his arm over Cam’s torso and lift up, bracing on his other hand. Cam bit his lip as he approached, delighted anticipation obvious in every bit of him. Not entirely an answer to his question, but the implication seemed favorable.

“What would you like to do, then?” Arcade asked, letting Cam’s hands guide him back on top, settling between his legs once more. “You want me to touch you?”

He had been planning on not settling fully on Cam again, but Cam had other plans, pulling him irresistibly so that they were fully together. Cam’s hands squeezed his middle, his thumbs sweeping up.

“Yeah.” Cam breathed, hands flexing on Arcade’s hips, fingers digging into the flesh. “Wanna touch you too.”

Arcade hummed, lowering enough of his weight that Cam could feel it, but Cam tugged until he gave up on the noble goal of not crushing the man below him. But Cam seemed quite happy to be laid upon, one hand trailing up to re-explore his back. Arcade rolled his hips against Cam, experimentally, and he buried his face in Arcade’s neck.

He wondered if Cam intended to leave his own marks, a reciprocation. Normally he was more interested in giving them, but he found he didn’t much mind the notion of Cam’s love-bites. 

Cam’s fingers dug into his hips and he pressed up, syncing quickly with Arcade’s slow grind. He was gentle as he nipped at Arcade’s neck, until Arcade twisted to capture his lips instead

“Can I take these off? And mine?”

Arcade skimmed his fingers along the waistband of Cam’s shorts and the man nodded. It took some careful gymnastics to wriggle off without exposing anything sensitive to the cold air, but then they were both naked. Skin-on-skin was a marked improvement, making Arcade swear into Cam’s mouth while they reestablish their rhythm. It’d be better with lube of literally any kind, but it’s still good enough to have a familiar heat burning in Arcade’s stomach, desperation building until he’s muffling himself with Cam’s mouth.

It's been too long for Arcade to last, but Cam’s right with him. Arcade snakes a hand between them to grab their cocks properly and all it takes is a rough squeeze before Cam’s hissing Arcade’s name, hips jerking as he spills. Arcade grins him through it, cursing under his breath at the sudden slick movement. Cam whines deep in his throat at the overstimulation, but doesn’t resist; his fingers dig into Arcade’s ass and he helps move him even faster, pulling him along easily.

Arcade barely grit out Cam’s name before his eyes shut, body turning inward as he let go, and Cam rocked them together, murmuring softly into Arcade’s throat. Arcade slumped against him, trusting the man to catch, and he did. He hummed in pleasure while Cam stroked down his back, nuzzling the side of his face.

Eventually, the stickiness between their stomachs outweighed the comfort of Cam’s snuggles, and Arcade rolled off him. Only to be immediately dragged right back into Cam’s arms, Cam curling around him.

“We need to get cleaned up.” He said, not really resisting, and Cam kissed the top of his head. “Cam.”

“‘Cade.” A pleased rumble and Cam drew him a little closer.

“Can I please go get a washcloth so we can get cleaned up?”

“S’cold.” Their legs tangled together. “Stay here.”

He sighed. Come morning, this was going to be gross and sticky and gross. But Cam’s argument was effective. It _was_ cold. So he huffed a _fine_ and Cam made a happy noise and that was worth it.


	25. Slime and Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: canon typical violence, spoilers for Vault 22

Hildern managed to be one of the most self-absorbed narcissists dedicated to the greater good that Arcade had ever met. His goal was noble, but _wow_ did he manage to make Emily look warm.

Cam hadn’t seemed enthused about the job—actually, he zoned out before Hildern managed to reach his second sentence—but agreed when Arcade indicated he should. He probably had forgotten Angela’s warning about all the previous mercenaries—and the request to find Keely—already. He did pay enough attention to plug in all the relevant details into his pip-boy, ignoring all of Hildern’s complaints about having to repeat himself.

And then, just as they were leaving, the eye-bot perked up.

_“Download complete. Begin recording. Nav_ - _”_

“End play back!” Arcade did not shout but everyone in the room flinched.

Or, rather, the two people and one robot flinched.

“What are you yelling for?” Hildern snapped.

“You okay Bud-E?” Cam asked, reaching up.

It floated down into his arms, making a strange whirring sound, and he curled around it, murmuring soothingly.

“The uh, ED-E has a few misaligned memory cells. It occasionally starts spouting out nonsense recordings.” Arcade said, smoothly, and tried to ignore Cam’s disapproving look.

“I don’t care. You have a job to do, off you go then. Take your noisy robot and shouts with you.”

Cam carried ED-E, rocking the eye-bot like it was a child, as they left the Camp. Once they were at a distance enough from the guards that they couldn’t overhear, Arcade turned to him.

“I’m sorry I yelled.” He said, directing it at both of them.

Ridiculous or not, ED-E _had_ reacted poorly to the shout and he wasn’t soulless. If it had programming enough to feel frightened, then he owed it an apology.

The eye-bot trilled a response and Cam nodded.

“It wasn’t nice to say her memory was broken.” Cam translated, looking hurt.

Right, that was probably not the best lie he could have gone with in front of an amnesiac.

Also, when had the robot become a _she_?

“You’re right. I’m sorry. But if i- _she_ had continued playing the recording, then NCR would know that she’s linked to the Enclave.”

Cam drew in a slow breath, understanding in his eyes.

“They would’ve hurt her.” He hugged the robot tighter and she rumbled. “Thank you.”

Arcade looked away, guilt trickling in. He hadn’t expected thanks… And it wasn’t ED-E he’d been concerned for.

“And us, for having her.”

Cam freed a hand and grabbed Arcade, pulling him into the hug. He went, not exactly enthused, and found himself pressed uncomfortably around the cold metal sphere.

“Don’t worry Bud-E, me ‘n’ ‘Cade won’t let them hurt you. Never again.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Vault 22 was the greenest place Arcade had ever seen. Alarmingly so. The painted signs warning that the ‘plants killed’ did not help his unease. Cam’s frown was ceaseless, from the time they walked into the vault to now, leaning against the wall and watching Arcade futz with the computer.

“Pip-boy?”

His arm was offered out and Arcade plugged in the data cord. A few key-taps and the data was downloaded.

“You want to leave?” Arcade asked, looking Cam over from the chair.

Tension in every bit of his form, his eyes darting—glaring—to each shadow, and uncharacteristic displeasure on his face.

“Can’t yet.”

ED-E beeped and Cam glanced towards it, not smiling like he normally would.

“Yeah. Lady said we had to look.”

“For Keely?” A stiff nod. “Are you okay?”

Cam’s frown deepened, eyes sweeping the hallway. Normally Arcade would assume that Cam was avoiding his eyes, but it was more on edge than Arcade had ever seen him.

“Something’s wrong.” He muttered. “Watching us.”

A strange breeze rustled through the leaves and Arcade suppressed the shiver. Cam’s instincts were rarely wrong… and that hadn’t been the first ‘breeze’ to work through the Vault. The underground vault, where they were on the fifth sublevel dozens of feet below the wind.

“Let’s get this over with then.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The mantises, honestly, were a relief. The plant monsters were horrifying not just because they could be anywhere, but because they were so clearly human.

Arcade wasn’t sure what had marked them as enemies, what invisible and not-necessarily-metaphorical line they had crossed, but Cam had barely had time to turn around before a green humanoid was attacking.

Cam had relaxed a micro-fraction at finally learning what eyes he’d been sensing, but it worried Arcade. What had turned the Vault-dwellers into monsters? He and Cam had been down here for hours now, touching things with their bare hands and breathing unfiltered air. The monsters were too fast for Cam’s shotgun so he was using his sledgehammer, obliterating them with ease but also aerosolizing potentially infectious material and bathing himself in their remains.

Arcade did _not_ want to die by becoming a plant creature and he definitely did not want Cam to either.

But they found Keely, hale and mostly whole, and Arcade had bandaged her up while Cam and ED-E handled the mantises. Thankfully, she was a scientist, one smart enough to do her own research on the threat.

She’d guided them to the second floor, after complimenting Cam’s repair skill on the elevator. She spoke fast, almost too fast.

“We’ve got to destroy the spores. Can’t let this spread.”

“How infectious are they?”

Cam hadn’t spoken since Arcade asked if he was alright. His hand never left his sledgehammer either. But he was following behind them, ED-E by his side, and Arcade pushed away his worry to examine later.

“From what I can tell, it’s slow spreading.” She answered. “You and your friend should be alright.”

They reached the lab and she immediately sat at the computer, fiddling with it.

“I've pumped the vault full of a highly flammable gas that, once ignited, should destroy the vast majority of the spores. There's one problem, though. The gas becomes semi-inert on exposure to oxygen, meaning the gas will have to be ignited close to where it's being introduced.” She typed rapidly, eyes on the screen. “I need you to find the vents where the gas is being pumped and ignite it. Oh, and survive the resulting blast.”

Arcade froze at the insane plan. The spores needed to be destroyed, but blowing up the vault _with them inside_?

“Where?” Cam asked.

“Level five. That’s where the spores are strongest. Typically, these vaults use circular vents in their air circulation systems. Look for a wall with two of them almost side by side.”

“You’re going to kill us all?” Arcade snapped, before Cam could follow that up, and Keely glanced at him.

“Flammable. Not explosive. It’ll light the air on fire, destroy the spores, but not blow the Vault.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to survive that?”

“Well, that will be a problem.” It would be more reassuring if she could summon up _any_ concern at all. “If you could seal yourself inside a room before the explosion went off, you might be protected from the blast. Then again, the flames will probably blow into the rooms down there. Maybe if there were a room that was reinforced...”

Her voice trailed off and then she was typing again. Arcade got the impression that she had already dismissed them from her mind.

“The computer room.” Cam said and Arcade turned to him. “It had big doors.”

The data room did have big, reinforced doors, and it was _possible_ that they would be strong enough.

“ _Maybe_ ,” Arcade started, but Cam was already waving a hand to ED-E.

“Stay with ‘Cade, Eddie, okay? Keep safe.”

“You can’t go alone!” Arcade objected and Cam cocked his head.

“I’m faster.”

“It won’t take two of you.” Keely added absently. “Just throw a grenade and don’t die.”

Arcade started to turn, to inform her that her input was neither necessary nor useful, but Cam got to him first. A hug, tight, with Cam’s sledgehammer a strange presence at his back.

“I’ll come back.” He said, softly. “I’m fast.”

Keely made a noise and Arcade pushed it out of his awareness, letting himself be reassured by the hug. Really, this wasn’t any more dangerous than anything else they did.

“Try not to blow yourself up.”

When Cam pulled away, Arcade’s arms itched to take him back. The small smile was an even smaller comfort, but he was gone before Arcade could change his mind.

Which, _really_ , it wasn’t that big of a deal. Cam was indeed fast and those doors had been highly reinforced. The gas should burn quickly… it would just be a matter of Cam ducking back into the room before the air ignited.

And the doors shutting quickly enough. Without malfunctioning. And for those centuries-old reinforcements to hold.

ED-E nudged him with her grabber-arm and he shook his head.

“Relax. We’ll know in a few minutes how your boyfriend handles it.” Keely offered, still hard at work on her computer. “Spiraling isn’t going to keep him any safer.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

He managed to wait patiently for three minutes. Or at least three minutes according to the analog clock on the wall; it hadn’t been synced in several hundred years so maybe it was longer.

…Or shorter.

He stared down the closed door that Cam had walked through, eternities ago, and crossed his arms. Tapped his fingers against his bicep. Tried to ignore ED-E’s occasional questioning whirs.

He still didn’t understand her, but that didn’t stop her from beeping at him. Cam tried to teach him the language, but it was slow going, since he only knew it on some bizarre subconscious level.

It was harder to ignore Keely’s increasing amusement. It turned out that the weird noise she had made was her laughing, a low wheezy-sound. And she’s doing it again, laughing behind his back.

“How long have you been together?”

“Excuse me?” He whipped around fast enough to make himself a little dizzy and she leaned back in her chair.

“I’m distracting you, before you give yourself a heart attack. I don’t think that big guy will appreciate coming back to find you seizing on the floor.”

He wouldn’t. Also, Arcade was not that upset. He was just tense. But Keely only smiled that unsettlingly wide way ghouls smiled.

“If I had t’guess, he’s still in the elevator, so we’ve got some waiting to do.” She prompts.

It did take a long while for the ancient machinery to go, but it’s already been so _long_. Then again, his sense of time was probably distorted from anxiety because he and Cam worked _together_.

“So, I’m guessing boyfriends? Or have rings fallen out of fashion again.” He stared at her. “Oh come on, I know lovers when I see them. He start out as your bodyguard or something?”

Arcade did not want to talk about this. But… it was distracting and the alternative of standing here staring down the door was unappealing.

“We’re not married.” There is not a yet in that sentence, why would there be a yet? “Our skillsets complement one another, so travelling together just made sense.”

“And how long have you been in bed with each other? Don’t tell me you’re playing coy on him.”

Arcade forced himself to walk over, to sit on the chair nearby. ED-E followed and Keely glanced at her, so she waved. She was getting friendlier by the day. Keely only nodded.

“We’ve been dating for…”

When to start counting? After their first kiss, at the Wrangler? Their second? Or last month, when they went for the more metaphorical version of _sleeping_ together? Keely snorted.

“Yeah, hard to track that kind of thing when you’re in each other’s business like that. I remember those days.”

There was something almost wistful in her milky eyes. The silence was a little lighter, slightly more bearable, until then a roar ripped through the very walls.

Arcade jumped up but Keely didn’t budge. She tapped on the computer, humming something gravelly in the back of her throat.

“That did it. Now we see if your boy made it.”

Arcade decided that while she had been kind to offer a distraction, he was not particularly fond of Keely. He walked back to the door and resumed his earlier stance, waiting.

Multiple daymares of increasing horribleness later, the pneumatic door hissed open, revealing a smoky Cam. There were a few wisps still clinging to him, but he wasn’t injured, and Arcade found himself wrapped around the man, much to both of their surprise.

Cam stiffened but relaxed into the hug, stroking Arcade’s back. He smelled like fire and ash and something distinctly chemical, but he was fine.

“S’okay, I’m okay.” He said, softly, and Arcade took a deep breath.

“Of course. Good.”

He had to make himself let go, step back, and Cam cocked his head at him. Arcade ignored the heat on his cheeks in favor of turning to Keely, who was watching them with the same strange smile. Cam’s hand took his and he entwined their fingers and goddamn it, fine, he was worried about his partner, what of it?

“Alright, now we have just one little problem left. The computer shows that _someone_ downloaded the research. I don’t suppose you two know anything about that?”

“We did.” Cam answered and she reached out her hand.

“Then hand it over. All of it needs to be destroyed.”

Cam stuck his right arm behind his back, frowning at her, and Arcade glanced at him. He obviously was against the destruction as well, but he was curious what Cam’s stake was.

“Not s’pposed to destroy knowledge.” Cam said, slowly.

“Do you really want people recreating this? This disease could spread all across the Mojave!” Keely snapped.

“No…”

“Then we need destroy it. Hand over the Pip-Boy.”

“We’ll give it to good people.” There was a stubborn set to Cam’s face and he turned to Arcade. “D’y’know planty-science people? Followers?”

…Good god did Cam just come up with a completely valid, viable solution to this complicated issue? And was now asking his opinion? He did, wow, and Arcade needed to stop staring at him with some sort of _emotion_ bubbling up in his chest looking like a slack-jawed idiot. He shoved all those thoughts deep down to respond.

“The Followers have entire teams dedicated to recapturing Vault-Tec research and using it ethically.” He answered, meeting Keely’s gaze evenly. “This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve handled something volatile. They’ll only use it after rigorous testing to ensure maximum safety.”

Keely stared at them for a moment before huffing.

“Fine. It’s on your heads if this kills us all, then.” She turned back to the computer and tapped rapidly. “I’ll make my own way out, but the door at the front is open. Tell Angela that she’s a sweetheart.”

Cam grinned at him and Arcade jammed down the impulse to kiss him because this was _not_ the moment and also they both desperately needed thorough baths before there would be anything intimate going on. Other than holding hands, the whole way out of the Vault, of course. That was fine.


	26. Playing the Role

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: none

Hildern was more than willing to believe that Cam lost the data. Arcade wasn’t sure if he was amused at Cam’s blank face while he was yelled at or angry that this morally absent jerk was insulting _Cam_. But he held his tongue, regardless, at least until they left the Camp. Then he was very expressive in telling Cam what a good job he’d done, until Cam was practically glowing and unable to look at anything but his feet.

Arcade quietly made a note about Cam being completely unable to handle being praised for future research.

Now, several days later, they were in their normal swing of things. Cam decided to lay off the NCR for a while because he was “bored” of soldiers and Arcade had no arguments there. Currently, he was lying on the ground, his head resting against Arcade’s knee, and staring up at the sky, while Arcade read. The campfire kept things pleasantly warm while stars twinkled above them. Cam had turned on his Pip-Boy’s light and draped his arm backwards, so Arcade could keep reading despite the darkness, and it was pretty much as perfect as it got in the apocalypse.

ED-E rattled and they both glanced over to see her float upwards. She had been running internal scans, her usual nightly diagnostics, but now she was moving, herky-jerky to hover unsteadily in front of them.

“Bud-E?”

“Uh, hello? Hi, are you there?” An unfamiliar voice buzzes out of her. “Oh right, you can’t respond.”

Cam sat straight up and Arcade set down his book.

“Listen, I'm using your robot as a relay to get this message to you. I've picked up some unusual chatter regarding your robot. It seems that it has some information that we could use. Oh wait, where are my manners?”

Cam’s hands tensed.

“This is Lorenzo, a Knight with the Brotherhood of Steel. We'd be very interested in examining your tech.”

Was that a… snarl? That was a snarl. Cam was snarling.

“Could you bring your robot to one of our patrols so they can examine it? I'll have the robot mark the location on your map.”

The audio finished with a harsh sound of electricity and Cam reached up. ED-E zoomed straight towards him.

“You okay?” He asked, softly, and the robot trilled. “I didn’t like it either.”

Arcade waited, because as strange as it always was, he was not about to interrupt them. Cam stroked her metal chassis soothingly, whispering reassurances while ED-E beeped and blipped, rapid-fire.

Also, he needed time to think. This was obviously about the recordings Whitley had left. Given Cam’s reaction, the man clearly did not favor the Brotherhood—odd, since they’d not had any interaction with them as far as Arcade knew—but if there was chatter, then other factions would be coming after ED-E soon as well.

As much as logically the answer was to ditch the robot, Cam would never go for that. And… Arcade wouldn’t either. Even though everything about the situation was odd, he had to admit that ED-E was far closer to true AI than a simple preprogrammed VI and, well, he wasn’t going to try and argue whether or not artificial life had a soul. ED-E obviously had the capacity for pain and thus it would be wrong to let her get hurt. As simple as that.

Not to mention the fact that she clearly had enough cognition to have preferred pronouns of all things, which implied an identity, and isn’t that close enough to personhood to count?

“Is this about the Enclave thing?” Cam asked and Arcade flinched.

“Almost certainly.” He answered, swallowing, and Cam pressed his forehead against the unyielding metal.

“Don’t like the Brotherhood. Veronica is nice, but they’re… not.” He breathed, slow. “Followers?”

“…Yes.” One step at a time, Arcade. Cam is focused on taking care of ED-E, so he should focus on that as well. “The Followers would also be interested in any data she had. And they would be able to retrieve it without harming her.”

“Good. Should go soon then, ‘fore someone else finds out.”

ED-E beeped and Cam’s lips quirked.

“She says thank you.” He translated.

Arcade leaned over and, feeling very silly, patted the curved metal. But she trilled and he could feel the almost-musical vibration through her and while she lacked nerve endings, she clearly had the capacity too for pleasure, to enjoy being held and pat.

And Cam smiled at him, a little curve to his lips, and Arcade had to swallow back his heart again because Cam looked so… _warmly_ at him. Thanks obvious, in his eyes, and those choking feelings rose up again, with Cam so close. He wanted to kiss him, but he buried it, because there was more than that. They’d kissed a hundred times now, and had several heated encounters in their bedroll, and this was different.

Cam was curled around ED-E, who has already switched back to half-power to resume her diagnostics, and looking at Arcade, and…

And the moment was weeks—months—ago, but this was another one, a new chance, out of a hundred, and Arcade needed to take this one. While they were alone, while Cam was looking at him like this, while he was able to be brave because there was something writhing in his chest that wanted to get out but there was far too much in the way.

“Cam, I need to tell you something.”


	27. Sharing Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: none

Cam must sense the mood shift because he sat up, blinking. He lifted ED-E and set her next to him, carefully, and then turned to Arcade, his legs crisscrossed like a child.

“Okay.”

Arcade took a deep breath.

“Do you remember what Doctor Henry told you about the Enclave?” Cam paused, eyebrows knitting together. “The man who lives with the Nightkin, with Lily?”

That does it. He nodded.

“They were scientists trying to make this world like the old one, but then some of them went crazy and now the NCR wants them all dead. And the Brotherhood.”

That was certainly one way to sum the situation up, but… reasonably accurate and pretty good for Cam. 

“I wasn’t always with the Followers or even the NCR. My late father was an Enclave officer and I was born in Navarro. Yes, the same one Whitley mentioned.”

Cam reached out and took his hand. Arcade squeezed it.

“My mother and I left with a few of my father’s old unit. Doc Henry and Daisy, as well as a few I don’t think you’ve met yet. Anyone who didn’t get out was killed by the NCR.”

Cam’s thumb rubbed a tiny circle, soothing, and Arcade watched it. Cam was just listening, not reacting.

“It’s… The Enclave was bad, they did _bad_ things. Kidnapping people, terrorizing communities. Which is why the NCR still has a hit list out on them. Us.”

Arcade swallowed and looked up. The firelight flickered over Cam’s face, making it impossible to read, but Cam let go of his hand. Before he could react, Cam was scooting over, sand crunching under him almost comically loud, and then he was wrapped up.

His eyes shut on their own and he just sat there, letting Cam hold him tight. There was a lump in his throat, dread in his stomach defying all kinds of logic, and then he was forced to gasp as Cam yanked him over.

He was deposited unceremoniously in Cam’s lap, so Cam could properly curl around him, in an alarming similarity to how he held ED-E moments ago.

“I’ll be more careful with NCR work.” He promised into Arcade’s hair. “Less too.”

While he would normally resent being moved like some toy, for this particular moment, he was just glad to rest his face against Cam’s shoulder. Hide, even though it was dark, and the one he was hiding from was the one cradling him so gently. Ridiculous.

“You’re taking this well.” He managed to say, reasonably clearly, and Cam stroked his side.

“Glad you told me. Thank you.”

Something stuck in Arcade’s throat at that, again. The fire was dying down, Cam should go and stomp it out so they could retire to their tent, but Arcade… wasn’t ready yet.

“The first person I told didn’t. Take it well.” Cam’s hand slid off his side to cup his cheek, thumb swiping under his eye. “He informed me that he’d be passing the information along to his superior officer in the morning.”

The memory, the shock and disbelief, come back to him and he would choke, but Cam rocked them slowly. It still took a few minutes for him to push down those feelings enough to speak again.

“It left an impression.”

The understatement to beat all other understatements. Cam touched his face again, wiping away tears that he was doing his best not to acknowledge.

“I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you.” He said, simply. “Not Legion, not Brotherhood, not NCR.”

He bowed, their noses brushing together, and Arcade’s breath hitched.

“Promise.”

Something tired and hurt and broken inside him _ached_ at the soft whisper and he could only tilt his head up, offer a kiss to seal it, because as much as this was ridiculous and overwrought and not even something Cam really had power over, for just this moment, Arcade believed him.

Cam never left an offer hanging and bent immediately, kissing Arcade as soft and sweet as those secret shameful stories promised a man would. Arcade looped an arm around Cam’s neck to hold him as tightly as he could, and Cam came pretty close to crushing the life out of him, and the angle was weird and he was definitely crying now, but it was fine, because it was perfect, and Cam was perfect, and they were together.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Arcade felt buzzed. A little. He’d swear that one of them was charged with static electricity with the way that his skin jumped every time Cam brushed against him while they got comfortable in their bedroll.

When ED-E powered back up, ready for her nighttime duties, Arcade elected to inform her as well. Cam translated that she was pleased that he trusted her enough to share and then bonked against him the same way she does to Cam. She did not realize the size difference between the two men and nearly knocked Arcade over.

But still, it was a strange rush to tell a third person (even if said person was a robot) and for them to also immediately accept him (again, robot, also from the same cursed cult). It definitely gave a few points to Daisy’s argument that _he_ was an asshole of an outlier who should not have any say over anything let alone Arcade’s heart.

Which was… a strong argument, now, with him getting snuggled up to Cam, again. That same strong feeling, deep in his stomach, seeping into his bones, was there, making him content and lazy for Cam to curl around.

“‘Cade?”

He tilted his head back, to peer up at Cam as though it weren’t pitch black and he was glasses-less.

“I, uhm. I think I should tell you somethin’.” He took in a slow breath. “About the, the checkered man. And House. And… me.”

Arcade stayed still. He’d started to tense at Cam’s first words, sure that the rug was about to be pulled from under his feet, but… but he hadn’t expected the clarifications. Neither of them had spoken about the “checkered man” since Arcade’s first attempt to understand Cam.

Cam hadn’t said anything about him, only shrugged. But the nervous words implied that there was something he’d held back.

“What is it?”

Cam’s swallow was audible.

“Y’know I got shot bein’ a courier.” Arcade nodded. “I was… runnin’ a chip, platinum. Benny wanted it, so he shot me.”

“Benny?”

Cam shifted, started to pull away, and Arcade snagged his hand. He squeezed it, trying to impart the same comfort that Cam had given him, when he was confessing.

“Checkered man. Used t’work for House. _Mister_ House.”

Arcade pulled Cam closer, tucking himself back in to how they were before.

“How are you involved?”

“He wants me to go fight Benny. Get the chip back. Work for him instead.”

Cam buried his face in Arcade’s hair and Arcade stroked his back.

“Do you know what the chip is?” He shook his head. “What are… you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I was… was s’pposed to do it already. I uhm.” He hesitated. “I asked you instead n’left. Ran.”

Arcade wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he expected, that his luck would actually let him have something as good as Cam in his life without complicating it in some horrible way. But he shoved that down, to focus, because really, what kind of a Follower would he be if he didn’t take the opportunity that Cam presented and try to make it good. No one had ever been in the Lucky 38 before and Cam apparently had a day pass. 

Though he was right to be nervous, to not know what to do. Running away wasn’t a coward’s move, it was a smart one. Mr. House outplayed everyone; if Cam, no, if _they_ were going to handle this, they would need a plan.

“I think there’s an opportunity here. You know how I feel about House.” Cam nodded. “If we play this right, we could set New Vegas up to be free, independent.”

“He scares me.”

Arcade snorted.

“If he didn’t, I’d be concerned. But we can work this out tomorrow, on the way to the Fort.”

Cam didn’t respond, for long enough that Arcade thought he might’ve somehow just fallen asleep, but then he shifted. He slid down to bonk his head against Arcade’s.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Arcade set a hand on his cheek, drawing him in for a quick kiss.

He couldn’t blame him, if only because that would be incredibly hypocritical. It was far easier to hide from one’s problems than it was to deal with them, after all. Mr. House was quite the problem.

“From now on, no more secrets?”

Cam breathed a quiet “yeah” before kissing him again, never content with just one, and then he squeezed Arcade in a tight hug. Arcade allowed it, because there was no escape, and then rolled over, so Cam could curl around him like normal. Which Cam did, immediately, and yeah, even with this hiccup, it was still good. They’ll deal with it.

“Alright big guy, we need to get _some_ sleep tonight.”


	28. Ring-a-Ding-Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings:  
> Canon-typical violence, panic attacks
> 
> Alright here's the plan everyone. It is currently 12:40AM my time. There are (not including this chapter) three more chapters. I am going to do my damndest to finish this thing tonight. and then clean up some minor errors (plus the line break issue) in previous chapters over the next week. No promises, but that's the plan. 
> 
> Let's do this.

Cam did not want to talk. He did not want to sit. He did not want to shower. He wanted to pace.

Which he was doing a great job at. Really wearing down the poor, defenseless carpet, with Arcade supervising from the bed. They’d dropped off ED-E with April—and Julie had to promise no less than six times to personally oversee her work—two hours ago and Cam had been so twitchy that Arcade had had to nearly physically drag him out of the Fort before he wound up having a panic attack right there in the sand.

Not that their room at the Wrangler was much better, but it was at least private. Cam could walk back and forth from one wall to the other without the mocking stares of Arcade’s crueler coworkers. Really, like any of them would do better when worried about their… whatever familial analogue worked to describe the relationship between Cam and ED-E?

But on the other hand, Arcade was getting dizzy just watching Cam.

“Cam.” He tried and got a grunt. “Come here.”

Cam glanced at him and Arcade patted the bed. He finished his last lap before turning, obediently coming over and sitting down. And, once he was seated, his leg started bouncing like a jackrabbit’s most frantic thumping. Arcade swallowed a laugh. Cam was upset. Do not make fun of Cam.

“Come on.” Arcade said, instead, leaning back against the headboard.

The implication should have been obvious—and normally irresistible—but Cam didn’t move. Just stared at his feet, tension screaming out of him from his tense shoulders, screwed-up face, and remarkably acrobatic hands going through all sorts of twisting, wringing motions. Arcade sat back up and leaned over, tapping the man in the hopes of his attention. 

He got a glance and he’ll work with it, since Cam seemed unable to give anything else. He reached farther, snagging Cam’s wrist. 

“All the way on the bed.” He said, settling against the headboard and pulling Cam with him. 

Cam grumbled, but obeyed. Unwillingly, stiffly, but all the same. He sighed a heavy breath and crawled over to drop next to Arcade, the bed dipping to pitch Arcade into his side. 

Arcade pushed himself back up and then draped an arm around Cam’s shoulders, bringing him over to hold as much of him as he could. Cam let him have that too, though he didn’t tuck in. No snuggling or relaxing or any other strangely adorable—and adorably strange—behavior. 

“She’s going to be fine.” 

Cam grunted. 

“April is one of the most technically minded people I know.”

Another grunt. Talking Cam down was going about as well as could be expected, but at least the man couldn’t damage the floor or unduly strain his knees while lying in bed. Arcade could make this better. 

“Didn’t ED-E herself tell you not to worry?”

“Course she said that.” Cam muttered. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

Shot in the dark there, Arcade could only catch occasional words still (and usually just when ED-E is going slow for his benefit), but it seemed a safe bet. But he does have to admit that telling someone not to worry is a pointless effort. 

“The data transfer will be done by morning. The long part is upgrading her weapons and, again, April is one of the Follower’s best.”

Arcade hadn’t needed translation to understand the rapid fire beeping and sky-wiggling as excitement at April’s offer of a stronger laser. It had been what convinced Cam to agree to it, even with April warning that it would take two to three days to be completely finished. Then there had been lots of hugging and beeping and Cam mumbling directly into steel while Arcade glared at anyone who dared to react to this very sad separation of man and robot. 

Cam didn’t even grunt this time. No response. Just frowning off into the middle distance, sitting fully-clothed in bed, leaning like a posed mannequin into Arcade. The only thing stopping him from being a sullen, sulky teen was age and the fact that his arms weren’t crossed yet. 

Clearly, it was time for a distraction.

* * *

Arcade did not intend things to go like this. He would like that to go on file with whoever the hell was in charge of such things because this is not in any way how he wanted anything to go down. He resisted the urge to stuff his hands in his pockets while four fully armed men stared at him, wearing his “nice” suit and not a stitch of protective gear or anything even vaguely weapon-shaped. Cam had been gone for a full hour now and, assuming he’s not already dead, Arcade will be killing him himself. 

His suggestion to visit the King was rejected. As was a drink, dinner, a walk, reading, craft time, and sex. He only offered the Strip out of frustration, a sarcastic quip, except Cam went and got his clothes. 

So they went to the Strip. Arcade intended to bring them to the Ultra Luxe, for an absurdly expensive meal followed by explaining the rules of poker five or six times until Cam got bored and just loitered around while Arcade gambled like a pretty plaything for a rich ass, like they had the last time Cam wanted to see “all the lights”. 

But instead Cam steered them towards the Tops and only Arcade physically digging his heels in to prevent being dragged made the man stop and  _ explain _ what exactly he was thinking. 

Over a meal at the Ultra Luxe. Arcade was hungry and damn him but he was only human and their food was worth it. Also he might have been hoping that Cam was simply experiencing some low blood sugar induced stupidity. 

Arcade had not been prepared for a relatively sensible thought process. That Benny wouldn’t hide forever, more importantly that House wouldn’t wait forever, and that if he hired someone else, things would likely go ‘bad’. Most people would be quite happy to be House’s lackey, or, at least, they would be happy for the paycheck. Cam was unique in his determination to do things the right way, for the right reasons, and that was how things have come to this. 

Of Cam, alone with his killer, in the Presidential Suite, and Arcade twiddling his thumbs in a circle of bodyguards. Sure Cam had not even attempted to be subtle in telling them all that if Arcade was harmed, he would kill every single person in this hotel, and yes, that did give Arcade a fascinating little series of emotions, but the fact does remain that should one of these guys decide to kill him, Arcade couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Knowing that vengeance would be swift and deadly doesn’t help him much. 

The intercom buzzed and Arcade smoothed over his jacket from not leaping out his skin, what, he didn’t do that. Calm and collected. 

“‘Ey, send the doc up and report back to Swank. I’m going out.”

As a unit, the guards all holstered their weapons and Arcade kept a tight, tight grip on his hope. He was walked to the elevator and one of the guards leaned in, tapping (presumably) the correct floor for him. 

“Have a nice day, sir.” He said and Arcade stared at him, until the doors shut and he was lifted away. 

The elevator opened into a hallway and also Benny, the checkered man, the one who tried and almost succeeded at killing Cam. He nodded at Arcade as he stepped in, adjusting his tie. 

“First room on your left.” 

Unable to cope with the surreality of the situation, Arcade nodded back. The elevator doors closed the moment he left, letting Benny continue on to wherever he was going. Opening the door to the specified room revealed Cam sitting on the bed, frowning at his hand. 

His perfectly fine hand, with no blood on it, and his suit wasn’t even rumpled, and there were no bruises or tears or anything on his face when he looked up, and he could stand and walk across the room to Arcade and Arcade grabbed him. 

“We are  _ not _ splitting up anymore.” He said, firmly.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Arcade’s mind whirled. He had no idea how Cam was faring, given that he’d gone silent halfway through Yes Man’s explanations, prompting Arcade to step in for him. The robot had been eager—as it was programmed to be—to help them and readily agreed to accept them as the new people in charge. 

Because Cam had taken that from Benny, somehow. Arcade pressed for details, but all Cam said was that he explained what was happening and Benny agreed to give up. He was going to leave New Vegas entirely, off into ‘the sunset’, without even a bit of violence between the two. Just talking, like Cam had promised in the lobby, and a man who had killed for this chance willingly gave everything up, including that Suite.

Though Arcade had little intention of ever visiting it again. It might be far nicer than the one at the Wrangler, he doubted that it would lose its taint of  _ Benny _ . 

The chip, the Platinum Chip, was tucked in the bottom of Cam’s boot, pressed against the blade that still hid there. The only reason  _ Arcade _ had been willing to let Cam go, alone, with an armed murderer. Trusting that while Cam was occasionally too trusting for his own good,  _ Camilus _ would keep him safe. As much as he hoped that one day, the blade could be retired, maybe with some psychologically-significant ceremony like a burial or throwing it off a cliff, Arcade had to admit that when it came down to it, those old, cold memories have saved their lives on multiple occasions. 

And maybe that’s what made the next moment happen, summoned by that thought, because they are stopped from their silent walk by a man Arcade never thought he’d be unfortunate enough to meet in person. Cold eyes, devoid of anything resembling soul or humanity, and a smile as sharp and friendly as a scalpel. 

“The eyes of mighty Caesar are upon you, brother.” 

Cam snapped to attention, his normal half-slouch straightening immediately to demonstrate his full height, and Arcade wasn’t sure if he should step between the two or behind Cam. 

“He-”

Arcade did not see the strike. Neither, incidentally, did the spy, nor would he see anything again, given that his body crashes to the ground several feet away, limp. No movement, even when it came to rest, even as heartbeats passed, and Arcade sucked in a slow breath. 

Cam stared after it, fist still aloft, eyes as wide as Arcade’s probably were at the… situation. Someone screamed and many other people were muttering and whispering and a crowd was starting to form, until the unmistakable  _ whirr _ of a securitron sent everyone skittering back to their own business. Arcade turned his head to see Victor wheeling up, whistling a low note. 

“Well, that’s one heck of a howdy, partner!” He said and Arcade wet his lips, about to try and defend the murder/attack/death-with-one-punch. 

“Legion dogs die in the street.” Cam growled, instead, and Arcade closed his mouth because there was no adding to that. 

“Fair enough, but Mr. House has a  _ strict _ no-littering policy. But I’ll clean this one up for you, and you best be getting along now, if your business is all settled up!”

A singular shot from the laser gun and the body was nothing more than a large pile of ash, already being dispersed by a slight breeze. Arcade pulled his eyes away from that to look up at Cam who seemed to be unwell, given the stuttering breath, the now-shaking hand, and it would be for the best for Arcade to go ahead and pause discussing this moment for when they were not being stared at by curious tourists and likely more Legion spies. 

There was no resistance as he pulled Cam away. 

* * *

There was a strange deja vu to the moment. Cam was pacing. Arcade was sitting on the bed. 

There were differences, however. This time, Cam was talking. Unendingly, stream-of-consciousness, more words than he ever said at once all coming out and Arcade was pretty sure once the man stopped talking, he would start crying, and Arcade was at multiple losses. 

“Nice robot will help, but the casinos… an’ Legion is  _ here _ … House knows I got the chip.”

Cam reached the wall and turned around. Arcade watched him take the eight long strides to the other side. 

“Legion wants it, n’prolly the NCR too, n’House, n’House  _ knows _ .”

Step step step step step step step step.

“Can’t give it to House ‘cause he’s  _ mean _ but can’t give it to anyone else either.”

He was going faster now. Arcade took a deep breath. He got off the bed and hung his lab coat on the hook at the door while Cam spiraled. 

“Mean robots’ll prolly come’n’get us soon an’ I can’t fight them and who’s gonna get ED-E in three days if we di-”

“Cam.”

The man looked up to see that he was about to walk through Arcade. He sniffled and Arcade opened his arms and Cam crumpled into him, tucking his face into Arcade’s neck to cry brokenly. Arcade closed his eyes and he held him, stroking his back. 

It hurt, it ached in his chest, and yet there was little he could do to help it. As jumbled as it was, Cam was right. Legion appearing that quickly meant that Caesar was definitely interested in the chip, which meant that NCR would probably be as well, if only to keep it out of their hands. 

House might be better than Legion, but that didn’t mean they should just hand it over. He wasn’t good for Vegas, his only interest was to keep everything as it was, a place where sickness and addiction and cruelty thrived all in the name of making a profit. 

Benny’s plan was, oddly enough, the best option of them, and of course, it would be the most difficult to pull off. To secure the Three Families allegiance, to roust Legion, to prevent NCR from annexation, to steal New Vegas out from under House. That wasn’t a to do list, that was a Herculean challenge, in the most literal reading of that myth. Cam was good, but he wasn't a demi-god. And Arcade was too tired to make the joke about him looking like one. 

And, even with all that, he just didn't care. It didn't matter, not when Cam was so upset, when Cam needed him. He murmured soft, meaningless nonsense and stroked shaggy curls and rocked them. No, what mattered most right now was taking care of Cam. 

With that thought firmly in mind, Arcade set out. Gentle pushing sent Cam, still sniffling, to the shower. Where Arcade joined him, quick on his heels, to ensure that he didn’t have the opportunity to resume his breakdown. 

It was a  _ very _ tight fit, as the shower was decidedly not meant for someone of Cam’s bulk let alone a second someone stuck behind him, but the shower wasn’t out of necessity. They’d both washed up when they got to Freeside and, surprisingly, there had been no fighting or particularly strenuous work. 

Well, except for Cam one-hit-killing that  _ frumentarii _ , but that could hardly be called a fight. Or, apparently, strenuous. A consideration for later. Arcade was focused now, intent on keeping Cam’s attention on himself, because.... because there is a time for many words and there is also a time for sleep, and Homer missed one far more crucial time. 

To be together. 


End file.
